Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs
Photographer: Sara Eirew
He was the only one for me
Release Date: April 19, 2018
Designer: Rachel Connolly
Photographer: Sara Eirew
I’m Evan Cook—billionaire tech entrepreneur and widower. Professionally, I’ve got it all. But since my wife died, my personal life has fallen apart. Remarrying seems like the obvious answer, so I place an ad. I’m not asking for much. The ideal woman only needs to be smart, organized, pretty, and helpful—both in and out of bed—without expecting romance. I never thought to look right in front of me…but it turns out that Nia Wright, my sexy, sassy assistant, just might be the perfect candidate.
After an unexpectedly hot night together, I’m ready to stop interviewing strangers and simply marry her. On paper, she ticks every box on my list. Best of all, she’s far too sensible to fall for me. I didn’t see the flaw in my logic until it was far too late. I never thought I’d lose my heart for the first time. And I definitely never imagined that she could consume me until I more than crave her. But she’s harboring a secret that could tear us apart—just as I’m finally putting myself together.
Books In More Than Words Series
More Than Want You, Book 1
More Than Need You, Book 2
More Than Love You, Book 3
Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than sixty novels. For nearly twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.
Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.
Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her teenage daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.
“Fake it till you make it.”
A notion I once considered utterly ridiculous. Until one crazy night with a mysterious man resulted in a social media frenzy that had the entire entertainment industry talking.
Seems a fake marriage was just what my career needed to make Hollywood come knocking.
Convincing him to continue the charade was almost too easy. The chemistry between us made it impossible to keep my hands to myself. But it was all just pretend, right? Love was never in the script.
That is, until he re-wrote it.
13 Reasons You Should Stay:
Later that evening, I was in bed watching television when I heard a knock on my door. Two short raps before the door eased open and Sophie entered. Once inside, she leaned back against the wood and offered a small smile. Wearing only a long cotton shirt and fuzzy thigh high socks, she looked as though she was already dressed for bed.
Why she came to my room at one in the morning—dressed this way—was anybody’s guess. Though, I had my suspicions.
Now that she was inside she fidgeted as if she was nervous. Like she might be having second thoughts. It wouldn’t surprise me if she turned tail and ran.
If I’d learned anything in my short time of knowing her, Sophie was a runner. I wasn’t worried, though. Something about the way she looked at me told me that—no matter how scared—her desire to be near me far outweighed those fears.
Hands behind my head. Confident and totally relaxed. I allowed my gaze to travel the length of her petite frame, lingering a little longer on her naked thighs. The same thighs I’d had my hands on only a week ago.
I tried playing it cool.
“Hardly,” she scoffed. Fussing with the hem of her shirt, “I just…I was hoping maybe we could talk.”
I studied her once more. Face scrubbed free of makeup. Blonde hair piled on top of her head. Smooth, kissable skin. She caught me checking her out and tipped her head coyly and smiled.
In that moment I knew that, if given the chance, this girl could destroy me.
Then again, they say every man had his kryptonite.
In a few short days it seemed as though Sophie Banks had become mine.
“Sure. I guess. What did you want to talk about?”
Sophie nibbled on her lip. Gaze darting between me and the door. Waiting.
Reading her cues, I shifted over on the bed and patted the space beside me. Inviting her to join me.
She wasted no time crawling up the mattress and snuggling under the crook of my arm. Making herself at home.
Two words: Perfect. Fit.
I buried my nose in her hair and took a deep breath.
God, she smelled amazing. Like lavender and honey.
“What’s up?” I pressed.
“I had a nice time tonight,” she admitted quietly. “Dinner was yummy, too. Then, the walk on the beach was…nice.”
I got the impression she was stalling. While I was all for laying next to her and shooting the shit, I also wanted her to feel comfortable asking me anything because it was obvious she had something specific on her mind.
“I had a nice time too, Tiny, but why do I get the feeling that isn’t the only thing on your mind?”
She raised herself up on one elbow and studied my face. For a few moments we sat in silence.
It was hard to not be distracted by all the tanned skin on display. My eyes were immediately drawn to the way the collar of her shirt draped over one shoulder, revealing the column of her neck and the smooth line of her collarbone. I wanted to dip my head and kiss a path from the tip of her shoulder to the lobe of her right ear. As if that wasn’t enough to test me, her creamy thighs rested mere inches from my hand. A hand itching to stroke them. Tease the soft skin of her inner thigh with one finger tip until her legs parted. Granting access to the heated area nestled between them.
Deep breaths, dude. Don’t let her see how turned on you are. She didn’t come here for sex.
“I need a favor.”
Please let it be sexual.
“Remember the whole wedding thing?” She asked innocently. I gave her a look and she squirmed beside me. “Well, the next day my agent called. Apparently he’s been getting a lot of calls. Casting directors are taking notice.”
“I don’t understand. What does that post have to do with any of this?”
“It seems they like the idea of me being married. I guess it makes me seem more stable in their eyes.”
“Stable?” I asked, still not making the connection.
Sophie sighed a heavy sigh and pushed herself up to a seated position.
“Last year I was a contestant on a reality show. While I was in the contestant house I did some things. Things I’m not entirely proud of. I guess my actions left a bad taste in many people’s mouths. The kind of people who make decisions for struggling actors such as myself. They considered me a loose cannon and my career has suffered from that lack in judgement. So, the fact they’re calling now is a pretty big deal.”
“That’s great news. Right?”
“I suppose.” She picked aimlessly at her socks and avoided looking me directly in the eye. “My agent thinks it would be best if I continued the charade. He believes that by posting more photos, and appearing in public together—as a couple—people will see that we are really in love.”
My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “We?”
“Of course, ‘we,’” she smacked at my arm, “you’re the guy in the photo. It’s not as if I can go out and find another guy who looks like you and would be willing to play the part of my fake husband. I mean, I could, but that would take too much time. Time I don’t have.”
“But we’re not actually ’in love.’” I held up my fingers and made air quotes. “Something about this doesn’t feel right. How will our pretending convince these people of anything? I’m not so sure I like the idea of you being someone’s pet project,” I grumbled.
“I appreciate you trying to protect me, but I think you’re forgetting that I’m an actress. I’ve spent years portraying someone I’m not. Besides, in this case love is just an illusion. All we have to do is stage the photos properly and people will read into it what they want.”
My hand brushed across her thigh and she shivered at my touch. Scooting closer, she leaned forward. bracing her palms on the mattress.
From this angle I could see down her shirt. See the valley between her breasts. Breasts that weren’t too big or too small. Just the right size for my palm. Dark nipples, erect and begging to be licked and sucked.
“What do you say? Are you up for playing the part of my husband a little longer? I’d be willing to pay you, if that would help sway your decision.”
“Fuck that,” I growled. Tore my gaze away. “No way in hell I’m letting you pay me to pretend to be in love with you.”
“You have to let me offer you something. Please, Jared. I can’t do this without you.”
When she peered up at me with those magnificent blue eyes, how could I say no? Hollywood was the dream of every aspiring actress. If all it took to make her happy was continuing the charade, consider me a married man.
“Aw, shucks. What the hell. I mean, it’ll be a burden but I think I can tough it out. Unless a better offer comes along,” I leaned back on my arm and dropped her a wink.
“Oh, you are so smug.” She swatted at my chest, laughing. “Thank you. This means everything to me.”
I bopped the tip of her nose with my finger, “No problem, Tiny.”
And it really wouldn’t be a hardship.
In reality it was a win-win.
She would get her ‘husband.’
I’d walk away with an endless supply of one on one time and an excuse to kiss her whenever I wanted.
But I drew the line at her paying me.
What the fuck was that about anyhow?
It was as if she was oblivious to my attraction to her. Either that or she wasn’t interested—a notion I found hard to believe.
She’d looked so cute when she asked. Nervous. Stumbling over her words as if she was actually afraid I would turn her down. As if I could. Based on the reason for her request, I could understand why it had been hard for her to ask. What she failed to understand was I had been on board with this crazy scheme from the beginning. Seriously, how hard could it be? Pose for a few pictures. When we were together in public we needed to pretend we were crazy hot for each other. Pfft. Like that was going to be a challenge. One look at her and I had a raging boner. Pretending to want her would not be a stretch.
“Question,” she announced out of the blue. “Since you’re my ‘husband’ and all, what should I call you? What I mean is, I met you as Jared but your friends call you Hawk. I’ll admit I feel a little left out. If we’re going to do this I want to be part of your world. I really want us to be friends.”
I reached up, threading my fingers with hers. “Friends? Is that all? I only ask because that first night I felt a connection between us. If we’re going to be spending all this time together I think it’d be a shame not to act on that attraction at some point in time. Don’t you?”
I’m going to pause right here and make it known that in no way did I mean I wanted to bang her right then and there. Something inside told me right now she was far too vulnerable. If we fucked now it’d be like me taking advantage of her. But my sassy, southern sweetheart seemed to have other plans. Plans that included a lot of kissing. And a helluva lot of body parts touching.
“You have no idea how happy I am you said that first,” she declared breathlessly.
With Ninja-like moves, Sophie stripped the blanket from my body and I couldn’t help smiling at the look on her face when she discovered I was only wearing boxers. She took her time in her appraisal. Taking in the definition of my chest and abs. By no means was I a bulky guy, but I worked out regularly. Running helped me relax. Well, that and sex. Most people wouldn’t realize, but being up on stage was an intense workout and there were nights when I played for a solid three hours, and my guitar wasn’t light—especially when I switched to playing the double neck. My muscles were long and lean, like rest of me, and her gaze paused on the bulge in my briefs. The one that grew with every second she kept staring.
I thought about my sweet Mamaw. My sisters. Baseball stats. Anything to tame the beast awakening between my legs.
Sophie licked her lips hungrily, looking as though she wanted to eat me alive. Her eyes darted from my crotch to my eyes and back to my erection. I said a silent prayer to my dick. Pleading with it to play dead, just this once. Not because I didn’t want her. God, I wanted to fuck her in the worst way. But not tonight.
Not this soon, and not like this.
I opened my mouth to tell her this was a bad idea. Tell her we should say goodnight and try this again in a week or two when she wasn’t feeling so vulnerable. Seriously? Who the fuck are you right now, dude?
She swept one leg over mine and straddled my thighs, nestling her ass just above my knees. Leaning forward, she finger walked up and down my chest. My nipples were rock hard from her touch. The pad of one finger circled the darkened areola before brushing ever so softly across my nipple. I swallowed, noting the dark blue hue of her irises. That same finger traveled higher to trace my bottom lip and on the third pass I caught it between my teeth and held on, loving the surprise in her eyes.
I rose to meet her. Hands on her back, drawing her body flush with mine. Eyes closed, our mouths crashed together in a kiss of utter desperation. Wanton need coursed through my veins as the tip of her tongue languidly stroked my lips, seeking entry. They parted on pure instinct, making room for her welcomed intrusion. She tasted so damn good. Like something I had never tasted but would crave for the rest of my days. Her greedy tongue felt like silk in my mouth. Soft and slick. Eager as fuck. I couldn’t help thinking how amazing it would feel to have that tongue wrapped around my erect cock, milking me until I had nothing left to offer.
My hand went to the back of her head. Fingers buried in her disheveled hair. I could see her nipples through her shirt. The little pebbles rubbed against the cotton fabric that confined them. Begging to be set free. I fell back against the pillows, pulling her along with me. As we kissed she moved her hips in slow torturous circles, grinding her pussy over my rock hard and all too eager cock. Since all I had on was underwear, I could feel how wet she was beneath that silky scrap of material she called panties.
Her soft moans kept me in a trancelike state.
That’s it, Tiny. A little to the left. Yes! Right there.
Roll. Flex. Grind.
My hands fell to her waist, fully intent on putting an end to the seduction. But goddammit if what she was doing didn’t feel like fucking Heaven.
My mind was at war with itself.
Slip your hand inside her panties. You know she wants you to.
Don’t do it, asshole.
She’d look so hot riding your cock.
Don’t be that guy. If it’s this good now think how much better it will be if you wait.
“Fuuuck!” I opened my eyes, saw the desire in hers, and knew I was in trouble. It took every ounce of strength I possessed, but I pressed my thumbs into her flesh and got her attention. “Whoa, slow down, baby.”
It pained me to utter those words but I knew it was the right thing to do.
For now, at least.
She came back to my mouth, claiming it before I could get another word in.
I ripped my mouth away, panting hard. “Sophie, we need to stop.”
Her hands dropped to my chest as she pushed herself up, still straddling my hips, and stared down at me. Mouth open and out of breath.
“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me.”
The vulnerability in her voice told me this was the right decision but I had a hard time tearing my gaze from her heaving chest. The way her nipples puckered against the cotton made my mouth water. I’d been picturing her naked since the moment we met. That night her dress had been so short it left little to the imagination. Tonight, with my hands on her bare thighs, pussy mere inches away, I could see the prize but I wasn’t so sure I deserved it.
I wasn’t sure I ever would.
I wanted her but I refused to take advantage of her.
Mark my words. There would be fucking in our future but my dick was going to have to earn the right to be inside her.
“I do want you. But not this way. I don’t want to rush into anything. I told you on the beach that I wanted to get to know you first. Right now it feels like the only reason you’re doing this is because you think you owe me something for coming to your rescue—which feels an awful lot like what you did on that TV show.”
That made her mad.
“This is nothing like that and what right do you have to judge me or my actions? Living in that house was emotionally taxing and Gavin was nice to me. He was the only friend I had at the time.”
Something inside me snapped. “Is that why you fucked him on national television? Because he was nice?”
Yeah, I know it was a low blow but I’d watched the video. Saw the look in her eyes. It was the same look she’d given me when I said yes. I didn’t like the idea of her thinking she owed me, or anyone for that matter, for showing kindness.
I wasn’t being kind to get in her pants. I was that way because that’s the way my Mama raised me.
Hurt shadowed her pretty face and I felt instant remorse.
“How dare you judge me. I don’t have to explain myself to you. In fact, I refuse to keep talking about it.” She pushed off the bed and headed for the door. “You know what? I thought you were different but I guess I was wrong. And you can forget about the whole marriage thing. I’ll figure something else out.”
She’d barely reached the door when I slammed it shut, caging her with my arms.
Things had gone haywire way too quickly.
My heart beat wildly inside my chest when she turned around and peered up at me through tear soaked lashes.
“Aww, fuck, Tiny. I’m sorry for what I said. I never meant to make you cry.” I cupped her face in my hands and took the fact that she let me touch her as a good sign.
“I’ve already paid a penance for my actions on that show. If we’re going to do this, Jared, I don’t need you throwing my mistakes up in my face.”
I brushed a thumb under each eye, wiping away the moisture. Feeling like the world’s biggest asshole.
“Noted,” I answered with a nod and mischievous smile. “For the record, you can call me any name you want, just so long as you keep calling.”
“Hmm.” The tip of her tongue poked through her lips and her eyes went up and to the left as she pondered her options. The sight of her tongue had my dick jerking with eager anticipation. With her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked up at me and giggled. “Can I call you Sparky?”
I responded with a firm, “Fuck no,” and then couldn’t help chuckling at the pouty face she made. She looked fucking cute as hell.
Damn. There was something about this girl I just couldn’t get enough of.
“Now that we’ve been properly introduced,” she announced, eyes shifting down to the semi I was sporting. “I think maybe I’ll call you Hawk.”
“Hawk.” She repeated my name. Testing it on her lips.
I found myself leaning toward her, eyes zeroing in on those luscious pink lips that tasted of peaches and cream. “Does this mean we’re still married?”
She arched a brow and rested her hands on my hips, thumbs dipping beneath the waistband of my boxers.
My arched brow rivaled hers. “That so? Depends on what?”
“On whether or not I’m ever going to get that honeymoon you promised me.”
My hearty chuckle echoed throughout the room. “Woman, you sure are intent on getting in my pants. I don’t know how I feel about being looked at as a sex object.”
“What?” she asked innocently, reminding me of the flirtatious woman I’d seen the night we met. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you first spoke to me. Now that I have firsthand knowledge of what you’re hiding behind those boxers you can bet your sweet ass it’s all I’m going to be thinking about.”
“You…” I lowered my lips to hers and stole another taste. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I can think of a few things.” She switched off the light and then screamed when I bent at the knees and tossed her over my shoulder.
I grunted and carried her down the hall. “Girl, you need to learn a thing or two about being wooed. Off to bed with you, young lady.” The sides of her fists beat out a rhythm on my ass the entire walk to her bedroom where I tossed her in the middle of the bed and kissed her goodnight. “Just so we’re clear, Tiny, I promise you will be sore after I’ve been inside you. But I also promise to kiss and make it better.”
The last sound I heard was that of her frustrated huff when I turned out the light and shut the door behind me on my way out.
The walk back to my room felt like the longest walk of my life.
Then again, it was hard to walk with a raging boner.
Sorry, buddy, not happening.
Man, it was going to be a long night.
Rhonda is an Amazon bestselling romance author who strives to create a book boyfriend for all her readers. She’s married and lives in Michigan with her family. In her spare time you can find her talking to readers, getting lost in a new book, or just spending time with her family.
A contemporary romance writer, D. Kelly’s stories revolve around friendship and the bond it creates, strengthening the love of the people who share it. For all things D. Kelly, you can visit her website: http://www.dkellyauthor.com
Genre: Romantic crime & suspense thriller
Overall 5-star rating on Amazon U.K. and AUS
Question: A seductress steals your husband, rips apart your family and shatters your dreams. You:
a) Wish them luck and walk away with your head held high (because that’s what society expects you to do)?
b) Quietly seethe but accept that there is just nothing you can do about it (because it easier for everyone if you do)?
c) Dig up dirt on the bitch (because a bitch like this would undoubtedly have serious dirt), use it to sabotage their relationship, then sit back with a glass of Pinot Grigio and watch them burn?
Answer: C. Oh, totally C.
Meet Scarlett Smyth. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, has a rocking body and has an above average IQ. She brags that she can ensnare any husband or taken male, and …she often does. She also is ambitious and has a penchant for anything expensive.
When the shrewd and ambitious temptress lays eyes on Bradley Murdoch, she believes she has found her dream man and a ticket to the high life she’s entitled to. There are just two problems:
1) Bradley is married to Rival. Happily at that.
2) They have children. Adorable little girls.
Do those facts deter Scarlett in any way? No, not at all. She is determined to steal Bradley, smoothly replace Rival in his life and show him how to really live life.
In a calculating move, the seductress (she is so good at seduction, she is even penning a book on it) befriends the quiet and unassuming Rival and worms her way into Bradley’s life.
There’s more: To expedite things, Scarlett the mistress, engineers a way to wipe Rival out of the picture – sends the clueless wife on a “vacation”.
But Scarlett may have underestimated her opponent. When Rival realizes the extent of the betrayal, she decides, even though she lacks Scarlett’s genius IQ, not to turn the other cheek. In fact, she is determined to win back her husband, believing that he is a good man who is simply mistaking lust for love. She believes that someone like Scarlett has to have skeletons in her cupboards and she begins to snoop around, anything she can use against the other woman, anything that can help her exact revenge.
What Rival doesn’t realize is: no one crosses Scarlett and gets away with it.
Now, the betrayed wife and the other woman collide. The result is another gripping suspense thriller from bestselling author Eve Rabi. This suspense mystery & psychological thriller is free on Kindle Unlimited.
I stare at him, all my fingers threaded through my hair, my mind muddled and trying to make sense of everything.
“This is not happening,” I mutter. “Can’t be happening!” Then I notice Bradley holding her hand. My best friend’s hand. With both of his. It’s happening.
At this point, I should be furious with him, with her, with the entire deception. I should yell at her, hurl abuse, even threaten to kill her. But I’m numb with shock and disbelief. I sink deep into my hospital chair, and fight the urge to rock. “Where…do…I go with the children?”
“Well, that’s been taken care of. They will stay with Scarlett and me. But you can see them –”
I leap to my feet. “No!”
“—whenever you want to.”
“I will not let you take my children, Bradley.”
“Rival, it’s all done.” His voice – he’s using the same tone he uses on our little girls when they’re being unreasonable.
“Done?” I feel a stab of panic. “What do you mean by done?”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Scarlett interrupts, “Rival, the courts –”
“Don’t speak,” I warn, my index finger raised in the air, my eyes fixed on Bradley’s face.
“Don’t SPEAK!” I repeat.
Bradley quickly stands in front of Scarlett, his arms outstretched in a protective gesture.
“Rival, listen: the court have appointed me sole custodian after you were charged with child negligence. All your visits have to be supervised.”
“What!” I blink rapidly. “Supervised visits? Me?”
“Well, Rival,” Scarlett says in an irritated voice, “you’ve a drug habit—”
“Shut UP, Scarlett!” I snarl.
“—and the last thing we want to do is to endanger—”
Everything happens so quickly. One minute I’m asking Scarlett to shut up, the next I have her on the floor, beating her head with the heavy-duty stapler from my doctor’s desk. There’s blood all over the floor and all over me.
Both Bradley and the doctor are unable to pull me off Scarlett and it takes six men in white to pull me off the woman who stole my husband, my children, my life.
“Let me go!” I yell. “I need to speak to my husband!”
They won’t let me. I scream and kick at Scarlett’s rescuers. When they restrain my hands, I bite them – sink my teeth into their forearms, chest and legs. Where I get my strength from, I have no idea, but I am suddenly so strong, it takes nine men, including two security guards in the end, to physically restrain me.
“BRADLEY!” I scream. “Don’t do this to me!”
I get no response from my husband. Frustrated, I spit on the men.
That’s when they place a lace hood over my face, a strait jacket over my body and throw me into a padded cell where no one can hear me scream. That doesn’t stop me from screaming and hurling abuse. But when I start to bang my head against the door, they re-enter the room, surround me, and inject me. The last thing I see before my eyes shut is the image of my husband holding my best friend’s hands. With both of his. Don’t do this to me, Bradley. Please don’t do this to me. Please …
Amazon links to book:
Eve Rabi is the author of 28 crime and suspense novels, five screenplays and more than half a dozen short stories. Inspired by the likes of Sidney Sheldon and Gillian Flynn, her tales are bold, scandalous, controversial. They’re also peppered with romance and humour. To quote an Amazon reviewer: “When you pick up an Eve Rabi book, forget sleep. She writes gripping page turners that will keep you reading till the very end.”
In her spare time, Eve likes to dance like no one is watching. In fact, she also likes to eat like no one is watching.
For more of Eve Rabi’s works, click on any of the links below:
Twitter – https://twitter.com/EveRabi1
Pinterest – http://www.pinterest.com/everabiauthor/
Google + – https://plus.google.com/111560859015561071911
Amazon U.K.: http://amzn.to/14vFE8r
My phone rang and I thought it’d be Bryce, but it wasn’t. “What can I do for you, Chief?”
Colton Myers was the chief of police back in Wyoming. His call wasn’t unusual, because they often called me and my brothers when there were cases the local PD couldn’t solve. “I need your help,” he replied, his voice shaking.
The cab driver pulled up to the airport entrance and I passed him a wad of bills before getting out. “What’s going on? I’m about to get on a flight to head home.”
“Good. I’ll drop these files off with Reed, so you can see them when you get back.”
The din of the bustling city made it hard to hear him, but I could tell he was distraught. “Files for what?”
He sighed heavily. “You know how there’ve been missing hikers in Montana?”
“Yeah, I saw something about it before I left for New York.” It wasn’t uncommon for tourists to sway from the hiking trails or test their limits by doing stupid shit. Most of those people found themselves dead. I liked to climb the cliffs, but I was good at it.
“We’re missing people here too,” Colton confessed.
“It happens every year. Why does this case shock you?” I’d been gone for three weeks, so I hadn’t even paid attention to what was going on in Wyoming.
He huffed angrily. “About three weeks ago, eight men supposedly went missing in our mountains. Just this morning, I couldn’t get a hold of Grace. Her boss also called me and said she never showed up at their meeting last night. Her car is still at the hotel. It’s like she disappeared.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I growled low.
Grace was his daughter and a good friend of mine. Hell, I’d wanted to be more than that for quite some time. I only held back from pursuing her out of respect for her father. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever known.
“Please, Ian. I have to find her.”
Hurrying through the doors, impatience flooded through my veins. “We’ll find her, if it’s the last thing I do . . . I swear.”
She loves to write, but she also loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes and white water rafting, and has a passion for singing. Her two youngest fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime, usually Christmas carols.
Dover has written countless novels, including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, the Gloves Off series, the Armed & Dangerous series, the Royal Shifters series, and her standalone novel Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense, but if she got to choose a setting in which to live, it would be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.
From My Mind to the Page. When being bad feels so good.
We live to read ~ we love to read!!!!
Sharing a Desire and Passion for Reading!
Welcome to the dollhouse, sugar
Eat, write, yoge
We Won't Tell If You Won't...
indie author of sweet and sexy contemporary romance
Reader of YA, Romance, Erotica, Paranormal, and whatever else catches my eye.....
Where epic love meets epic adventure.
The best books from the romance genre's best authors.
The Online Home of D.S. Williams, her alter-ego Leah Dempster and her editing counterpart, The Pedantic Punctuator