Two lonely hearts could learn to beat again, if they’re willing to dance together.
Ansel Bray, a broody, handsome man not known by me, at all.
Long dark hair, blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks. I’ve never met her, but her image is imprinted in my mind. An angel muse who inspires me to paint again.
There is something about him. Something that spurs a need to be as close to him as possible. A need to find out why.
There is something about her. Something that draws me in. Something that urges me to find out what her presence means.
I’m too busy trying to run a business, keep the red socks out of the white laundry, and get the damn pillowcases on without owing a dollar to the swear jar. Sure, Frannie Sawyer is beautiful and sweet, but she’s twenty-seven, the boss’s daughter, and my new part-time nanny—which means she’s completely off-limits.
a fine line between love and hate…
Tess Walker hates Beau Allen…
He’s convinced his campaign to get her out of her own head—to stop thinking and feel—will work. But his own crisis could drive them further apart.
They are Christmas miracles….
“Sometimes love happens when you least expect it.” That was what my husband’s mistress told me the day I found out about their affair.
Being bad never felt so good.
I fell for Ally the moment I saw her. Who doesn’t like a confident, intelligent woman with curves I could spend days exploring?
Who am I kidding?
One night. His rules.
Will she obey his demands to fulfill a dare?
Or will she realize his dark tastes are anything but exquisite?
“I love being naked. Naked is awesome.” ~Cooper Miles
Life used to be an endless party. I worked hard and played harder (as often as possible). But things change—people change—and lately the party life isn’t doing it for me.
Truth: Penn Walker entered my life like a summer storm—dark, ominous, and filled with thunder.
After witnessing my husband’s murder, I didn’t have much of a heart left to offer a man.
But Penn took it all.
Every jagged shard.
You know what else I say about Vengeance?
It’s best served frozen.
No side dish of compassion. No extra helping of warning.
No dessert called a second chance.
The price I want for it.
Is written in blood.