I can remember the exact moment I thought up the idea ofQuick & Dirty.
I was walking my dog up Rainbow Road on the south facing slope of Christmas Hill in Victoria and texting with some friends asking for heroine name suggestions.
One of them suggested Parker Ryan and I absolutely loved it.
I also knew that I wanted the tagline to be The best way to get over a millionaire is to get over a billionaire.
I’d already “created” Tate McAllister, mysterious billionaire philanthropist and introduced him to the “world” in Hot & Filthy, but I hadn’t really planned to give him his own love story, let alone turn it all into a series.
I joined a boxed set and needed a story to contribute, so I “whipped up” Quick & Dirty as my contribution. However, I never felt like I had truly “finished” the story arc of how Tate got his seed money to buy the resort. Too much was left unanswered about Tate’s dead, estranged father.
The world needed more answers. I needed more answers.
Quick & Easywas written more on a dare than anything else. Two of my very close friends, who also happen to be incredibly talented authors (Jeanne St. James and Erica Lynn) used to tease me over the fact that all my books were long, and just kept getting longer. Meanwhile, they had no problem whipping up 20-45K word novellas. But I just couldn’t do anything under 50K.
So to prove them that I in fact COULD write a novella, I set aside two weeks to write Quick & Easy. I wanted to outdo my own challenge and said I would keep Quick & Easy at 20K words. Well, of course, you know I did it!
But that just fed the flames of this series even more and I needed to add more brothers. More billionaires. The mystery behind the rich deadbeat dad still burned inside of me.
Quick & Reckless came about because I wanted to challenge myself once again. I wanted to write two tropes I’d never attempted before: secret baby and step-sibling.
I get a little squirmy at the idea of hooking up with a step-sibling, to be honest. I don’t have any step-siblings, but if its someone you’ve grown up with and in any way shape or form have called “a brother” or “a sister” it just feels too taboo for me to write. No judgement if you write or love to read step romance. I don’t judge. I just didn’t want to write too far out of my comfort zone, otherwise you as the reader would have known and felt that lack of sincerity and the characters and story would have been wooden.
So I put a twist on the step romance. A twist that didn’t have me stepping too far out of my comfort zone, but enough so that my toes got wet and I’d like to think I can now add that trope to my list of “I’ve gone there” tropes.
But of course, three books wasn’t enough. I still hadn’t answered the mystery of the dad.
We needed a sister.
Cue, Skyler and her story, Quick & Dangerous. We met Roberto “Rob” Cahill in Lust Abroad, and a lot of readers asked me if he was going to get his own story, since they loved him in Lust Abroad. So I figured, why not give him his HEA and pair him up with the fiery Skyler who is running from the mafia? A match made in romantic suspense heaven.
I honestly can’t tell you WHY I decided to make mention of a fifth sibling at the very end of Quick & Dangerous, but I did. It was my subconscious telling me that I wasn’t done with this series. That I needed to delve deeper into the mystery of Randall McAllister–
…deadbeat dad extraordinaire–and introduce one more McAllister sibling into the mix.
But, of course, I also wanted to bring us back to Canada and give the family a big, noisy, snowy Christmas.
I’m loving the direction that Quick & Snowy is going. It’s a slower burn than the rest of the books, and the heroine (Brier), although strong and brilliant, also suffers from crippling social anxiety and is terrified to meet her intimidating, billionaire siblings. Barnes is a former SEAL and an amputee, and he’s been tasked with finding Brier. Only when he finds her in sunny, beachy and beautiful Albufeira, Portugal she’s not exactly hopping on the next plane to go and meet her family.
He has a bit of a challenge on his hands, convincing her to leave with him. Because if there is anything this former SEAL does is finish the job he started.
I can’t wait for you to read this book and let me know what you think. I plan to wrap up all loose ends and any unsolved mystery pieces. This will be the FINAL Quick Billionaires book. I have way too many other things planned and on the TBW (to be written) pile to think about working another Quick Billionaire book into the mix.
But I think the reason why I did keep adding more books to the series is because just like the Hart family (The Harty Boys Series) I just love this family and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
“You’re welcome to tickle my nuts and sniff my ass crack, but I know damn well I don’t have to remove my leg. Try again …” Barnes Wark leaned forward over the rolling belt in airport security and squinted at the nametag on the baby-faced TSA agent.
He resisted the urge to sneer at the name since he, too, had an unusual name that often garnered some quirked eyebrows. Instead, he felt half an ounce of sympathy for the kid.
But it wasn’t enough o save him from Barnes’s impatience. Oh no.
The barely-legal kid’s Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat and his brown eyes shifted from Barnes’s to his supervisor who was standing in the corner.
“Don’t look at her, look at me,” Barnes continued. “I’m the person you’re dealing with right now. You saw my prosthetic after I took off my shoes and thought, hey, let’s make the cripple take off his leg. I’ve never seen that before.”
The kid’s face was turning the shade of an over ripe tomato. He shook his head as if Barnes hadn’t just dived into his sick subconscious and read his mind.
Barnes ignored the man’s silent, but colorful denial. “And you’re not going to see it today. But I am going to give you a second chance to speak to me like human being with the same rights as every other person in here. So tell me again exactly what I need to remove.”
The kid’s eyes found Barnes’s once more, he swallowed again and nodded. “Belt, shoes, all electronics, all liquids and anything metal. But I don’t need you to remove your prosthetic, sir. A pat-down will be necessary, though.”
Barnes nodded and chucked his wallet, watch, belt and carryon into the bin, then walked to wait for another TSA agent to wave him through the metal-detector. Of course, it beeped.
He always forgot his dog tags. They were an extension of who he was—just like his leg—so it skipped his mind that they would need to be removed before proceeding through the detector.
Stepping back through, he lifted his tags out from under his black T-shirt and tossed them in with his belt and wallet.
The moment they were off, he felt exposed. Vulnerable.
A piece of himself was missing.
He needed them back.
Calmly, with a hard swallow, he stepped back through the detector.
It beeped again.
He rolled his eyes. It would beep until the day he died.
He’d been through this scenario hundreds possibly thousands of times. But once in a while he encountered a wet-behind the ears greenhorn who had either skipped the page on amputees in the TSA training handbook, or had some secret fetish or overwhelming curiosity that made them break protocol.
He NEVER indulged them.
Sure, he didn’t give two shits that one of his legs was made of titanium. He’d come to terms with that part long ago. But he did give two shits, probably more than just two about being made a spectacle or having his rights violated.
He was waved over to the side where two male TSA agents approached him.
He didn’t say a word. Just spread his legs and let them do their thing.
They wouldn’t find anything.
He was one of the good guys.
Or at least he tried to be.
The TSA agent who was sliding his hands up Barnes’s thigh was busy explaining what he was doing and why. Barnes tuned him out. The other agent had Barnes’s passport. He glanced into the bin of Barnes’s stuff and his brows lifted.
“Thank you for your service, sir.”
As predictable as the tides.
“My father served as well. We appreciate everything you’ve done to keep our country safe.”
Barnes nodded at the man and accepted his passport back. If only this thirty-something guy with the wedding band and baby spit up on his collar knew the kinds of things Barnes had done to keep this man and his family safe.
It would give the average person nightmares.
Fuck, it gave Barnes nightmares.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” the other man said, standing back up.
Barnes grunted, then continued on to gather his stuff.
He was almost home.
One more flight, Houston to Portland and then he could hunker down until the new year.
With his dog tags securely back in place, he released the breath that had been burning his lungs. He finished putting on his belt and shoes, slung his rucksack over his back and headed toward his gate.
His sister had offered for him to come and spend Christmas with her family in Maine. His nieces and nephew were dying to see their uncle Barney, but he just didn’t have it in him to do the big family Christmas thing.
What’s better than a little dirty talk to get you in the mood?
Even if sex isn’t on the table at the moment (the kids are awake, in your face and cock blocking you like crazy), or you and your man are not even in the same room or building, let alone under the covers, or you’re just looking to spice things up a bit for fun, dirty talk can be a great way to open up the lines of communication between you and your partner. It can give you a chance to talk about what it is you want in bed, and also just get your engines revving for when you finally do get to carve out some alone time. And if you’re not comfortable saying those things out loud, because of little ears around, that’s what cell phones are for.
We don’t do it often, but when the hubby and I feel a lack of connection, we’ll send each other dirty, or sometimes sexy but also sweet messages throughout the day. I’ll even get creative and just send him a list of emojis and then he has to decipher what they mean. He’s pretty good at cracking that code, though, maybe I’m making it too easy on him. We all know what a peach and an eggplant mean …
One things for sure, the heroes in my books are expert dirty talkers. They know how to take their women from zero to sixty, shivering to sweaty in record time.
I thought it might be fun to pull a few dirty talk excerpts from some of my books to give you a real taste of just how raunchy and filthy these men can be.
**WARNING** May cause your computer/phone to catch fire and/or your panties as well. I suggest a tall glass of ice water, maybe a hand fan and your partner close by.
Shoot me a message, or comment below and let me know what your favorite one is, or if I forgot a dirty talking hero, or you just have a favorite filthy-minded man you want me to include. I’m totally open to a PART 2 of this post, so suggestions are welcome.
Tate McAllister – Quick & Dirty – The Quick Billionaire Series, Book 1
“Miss Ryan…” he purred with a grin. But then his face grew fierce and his brows narrowed. “Touch yourself.”
Biting my lip, I let one hand travel down to the V of my legs, two fingers snaked their way between the lips to my slippery heat. His eyes never left me, they just caught fire. Perhaps it was the glare from the sun overhead, or maybe it was just Tate, but when I looked into his eyes all I saw was a raging inferno. Lust, craving, desire, need. I began rubbing my clit, back and forth back and forth, enjoying the way the nub grew hard beneath my fingertips and my slit grew wet. I let two fingers slide into my channel and I started to fuck myself, enjoying the feeling of my own hand but also loving what it did to Tate, what I did to Tate.
“Smack it like you did before,” he ordered, the bulge in his pants betraying the composure his voice still held.
I let the grin slowly drift across my face and closed my eyes as I began delivering light, tingly little smacks to my clit and lips with the tips of my fingers. God, it felt good. A soft sting following by a spreading heat, pleasure born of the pain.
“Fucking hell,” he said with a snarl, sinking to his knees and shuffling over to my chair. He molded my body how he wanted it, lifting my legs onto the arms of the chair, spreading me wide. “My turn.”
Swallowing I leaned my head back and closed my eyes again. I’d never done anything like this before, never pleasured myself in front of anyone, never let a man take me in so many ways, in so many places. And yet Tate, Tate made me want to submit and let him have me as he pleased. I’d do anything for this man so long as he continued to make me feel the way I did now. Alive. Wanted. On fire.
“Continue with your breakfast,” he said as he blew cool air on to my wet, throbbing lips, denying me the touch I so desperately craved. “Eat, Parker, or else I won’t.” His eyes were all pupils now as he drew one sexy finger up between my folds. With his thumb and forefinger he gave my clit a mighty pinch. I yelped, so he did it again. “Eat!”
Warren McAllister – Quick & Reckless – The Quick Billionaires Series, Book 3
“Suck it, Silver,” he said with a low growl, urging her forward with his hand in her hair. She opened her mouth, welcoming him inside. But he didn’t ease his way inside. Instead he took control, gave no quarter and rammed his cock to the back of her throat. Silver’s eyes teared from the impact, but she managed to suppress her gag reflex and hollow out her cheeks. “That’s right, angel. Suck it hard. You love my cock, don’t you?”
She nodded, glancing up at him. “Mhmm.”
“You love it when I ram it inside your sweet little cunt, make you come all over my balls.”
Max Travis – Hot for Teacher – The Single Moms of Seattle, Book 1
She licked her lips, her eyes bright and challenging. “Are you going to take the matches away from me, Mr. Travis? Or are you going to teach me how to start a fire? Stoke it so it gets good and hot.”
She squawked as he flipped her around and pressed her back against his chest. One of his hands pressed against her neck, keeping her head on his shoulder, while the other one splayed across her flat abdomen. “Oh, I can teach,” he whispered next to her ear. “I think the greater question here is: Are you willing to learn?”
Her sharp inhale was encouraging.
“Do I need to muzzle you?” he asked, nipping at her earlobe and trailing his tongue down her neck.
“Hmmm.” His fingers against her belly pushed beneath the waistband of her pants until he met with lacy panties.
“I can be quiet if I have to be,” she whispered, her chest lifting and dropping with each heavy breath.
“Are you normally?” He inched his fingers lower still over her panties until he found a damp patch. He tapped her clit with his middle finger, and she jerked in his arms.
“No. At least I didn’t used to be.”
Lifting his hand up, he pushed his fingers beneath the elastic of the lace where short, soft hair met his fingertips. He’d never been one who liked a bare pussy, and he could just imagine that the hair between her legs was the same as the hair on her head. The thought of pressing his nose there, inhaling her scent before he devoured her pussy, made his dick throb. He knew she could feel his erection against her ass. He wasn’t hiding it, and the way she wiggled her bottom across his lap said she felt it and she didn’t mind it at all.
His middle finger dipped down between her folds and gathered drops of her silky arousal before dragging it back up toward her clit, where he began to make small circles. Her hips gyrated, and she bucked up into his palm.
Chuckling, he released his grip on her neck. “Give me your mouth,” he demanded, relishing in the way she shivered in his arms from his words.
Jack Savage – Hot for the Handyman – The Single Moms of Seattle, Book 3
Her head thrashed back and forth on the counter, her ponytail hanging over the side, butt cheeks pressing into the other edge.
When the second wave of euphoria began to ebb, she lifted up onto her elbows with the little energy she had left. “Jack … you need to …”
He just kept going.
“Oh my God, stop. It’s too much.”
He shook his head, his blue eyes opening and tipping up to look at her, dark and searing. He drew her clit back into his mouth. “I’m not stopping until it looks like I’ve eaten a dozen glazed donuts, Bianca. You have more in you. I can taste it, and you taste fucking delicious.” He swept his tongue up her folds. “Haven’t tasted anything so fucking good in a long time, darlin’. Can’t stop now. Couldn’t if I tried.”
Her head shook quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. I have. It’s just … I mean, I washed myself, but I haven’t tidied things up down there in a while. I don’t go bare as a peach, but I like to keep the hedge, well, groomed, if you know what I mean.”
He rolled his eyes and flopped back down into his pillow before reaching for her hand from where it was still wrapped around his cock. “Don’t care about that. Like fruit, like topiaries, like the wild, untamed wilderness. Now climb up onto my face, woman. I’m hungry.”
Warmth and lust infused her.
“Lydia …” he urged, hauling her over him with all his rippling muscles. “Listen to your gut and climb up on my damn face. I’m like a hobbit. I’ll have my first breakfast in bed, then we’ll head to the kitchen and I can whip us up some waffles for second breakfast.” His nose wrinkled. “Unless you’d prefer pancakes.”
His nerdy reference to being a hobbit only made her like him even more.
Rex was the walking definition of not judging a book by its cover. Because when she’d ogled him when he went for his runs or walked out to his truck for the last couple of months, never in a million years would she have guessed that he was a closet nerd with a penchant for puzzles and Lord of The Rings.
“You could not be further from a hobbit,” she said, feeling her pussy pulse and tingle as he maintained eye contact with her and slowly wedged his free hand into the elastic of her panties.
His brows scrunched, and he made a mock dejected expression. “Are you saying I’m not courageous, brave and determined? Am I not a skilled listener? Do I not have good eyesight? I’d like to think that for my size, I’m still nimble and deft in my movements.”
She sniffed a laugh. “Okay, maybe you have the psychological characteristics, along with the good listening and eyesight, but I’m more saying that you don’t look like a hobbit. Aren’t they generally short, fat and slow?”
He gripped her by the hips with both hands, making her yelp. “Maybe some, but not this hobbit. Now give me my breakfast.”
James Shaw – Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 1, 2 and Hot & Filthy – The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series, Books, 3, 4, 4.5
“You need to know that you are beautiful, drop-dead fucking gorgeous, and Tom and all those other jackasses that made fun of you are fools, and it’s their loss. You are exquisite, inside and out.” He came up behind me again, wrapping his big, strong hands around my body. “I find every inch of you sexy as hell, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Please, stop putting yourself under a microscope and looking for imperfections that aren’t there.”
I could hear him trying to suppress a laugh. “All right. What are you wearing?” That dark and dangerous voice set jolts of warmth zinging through my body until they settled deep in my belly and spread into a growing and tantalizing heat between my legs.
“Oh, you know… I’m just sitting here doing some paperwork in my plaid mini skirt and white knee-highs. I was wearing my white blouse, but it got so hot in here that I had to take it off. Now I’m just in my lacy black bra.”
“School girl route, eh? Okay then. Well, why don’t you take your skirt off as well, cool off?”
I grinned. “Okay.”
“Are you stressed over all the homework you have to do? May I suggest a stress release?”
“So stressed,” I hummed. “Are you offering to help me out, Mr. Shaw?”
“Yes, I am.” He was all business.
“Oh, please, Mr. Shaw, I neeeeeed your help,” I cooed.
“All right, baby, first I want you to lie back and bend your legs. I need you to close your eyes and pretend your hand is me.”
“Okay.” I’d never had phone sex before, but I was rather excited to try. It was another thing that I had suggested to Tom only to be shut down and called a pervert.
“It’s been so long since I’ve tasted you, can you remind me of what I’m missing?”
I wasn’t surprised that I had started to get wet. His voice was enough to make me cream even without the dirty talk. I reached down and touched myself, sliding one finger inside and pumping it in and out while lightly brushing my clit. I brought it to my mouth and sucked my fingers.
“I’m so wet, James, wet for you. I taste… I taste salty and a little sweet and sour. My body is craving your touch. I need you inside me.”
“Slide your hand back down and pretend you’re me. You’re going to need to talk to me and tell me what you’re doing, so I can be right there with you. I want to dip my head between your thighs and nip at your inner lips. Would you like that?”
“Oh, God yes. Don’t stop. I need your tongue on me. And your fingers inside me.” I slid my fingers back down beneath my pajamas and started massaging lazy circles around my clit. “I’m touching myself, making circles around my clit, and it feels so… so good.”
“Good, baby, good. I’m stroking myself too. I miss your mouth. You give the best head. You’re able to take me in so deep. I love being able to feel the back of your throat with the head of my cock. It’s such a huge turn on. Suck my cock now.”
“I love having your cock in my mouth,” I sighed. “You’re so big, and it turns me on too. I need you to put your fingers inside me, suck my clit, and use your beautiful tongue to tease me. I need to come.”
“Oh, baby, I need you to come too.” My eyes were closed, and I was picturing everything he was saying. In my mind we were in the sixty-nine position, fucking each other with our mouths. I slipped another finger inside myself and started working the two in and out, scissoring them back and forth as I used the fingers of my other hand to circle my clit. “I want you to suck my balls baby. I loved it when you did that before, your tongue is so soft and your mouth so warm. Suck my balls.”
“Oh, God yes. I’m going to take one in my mouth slowly while I continue to work your cock with my hand. I love the sounds you make when I’m sucking you off, the moans and the grunts, it lets me know I’m doing it right. You taste so good. I take your other ball in my mouth and gently pull and massage it. They’re so big.”
“Your pussy is dripping wet. I’m having a hard time licking up all your sweetness. It tastes so good. I love your soft, bare pink pussy.”
“I need to deep throat you. Feel your big, thick cock hitting the back of my throat… it makes me wet.”
“Oh, baby, yeah, talk dirty to me.”
“I’m close, James.” It hadn’t taken long for my orgasm to start pounding on the door, screaming to be let free. His voice, his words, knowing that he was touching himself while I touched myself, it was hot and dirty and so damn sexy that it took every ounce of self-control for me to not just go off like a rocket.
“Me too, baby. Just finish yourself off, but be sure to make lots of noise. I need to hear you come.”
“Okay.” I was breathless; I’d put the phone on speaker and laid it next to my head on the floor seeing as both my hands were occupied.
“How many fingers do you have inside, baby?”
“Add a third.”
“Okay.” I continued to make circles around my clit with two of my fingers on my right hand as I slid a third finger inside from my left. I pumped furiously. My release was only seconds away. I needed another hand to pinch my nipples; I needed James. I gently pulled on my clit with my thumb and forefinger, and my climax erupted. “Oh, oh, ah, oh God, oh God, oh fuck James, yes, oh, oh.”
“That’s it, baby, yes… take it all, all the way in… fuck. Swallow everything. I give you. Yes, Emma, yeah, oh God, ahh, err, ah, ah, FUCK!”
S: You’re so fucking sexy, Harper. You know that? Carly’s upstairs with your sister, and you’ve left a key under the mat. I enter and lock the door. I hear the shower running. I remove my shoes and my jacket, then walk toward the bathroom. I open the door. It’s steamy inside.
What the heck was going on? Is that what he wanted to happen tonight? Did he want me to leave Carly with Quinn? I was so confused, but at the same time so freaking turned on. I flipped another waffle and poured on more batter, thinking about what I could text back that would even remotely add or match what he’d so eloquently and sexily described. But he didn’t give me a chance.
S: All I see when I walk into the bathroom is the outline of a body. Curves that won’t quit, beautiful creamy skin. Sexy dark hair hugging a long neck.
Was this sexting? Was Sam sexting me?
S: The door opens and suddenly I’m met with a vision. You. Your body glistening from the water while your beautiful brown eyes shine bright and eager. You hold your hand out to me and invite me in.
We were sexting! I’d never sexted before, but apparently Sam had, because the man knew how to seduce and arouse. I flipped another waffle and poured on more batter. Closing the iron, I picked up my phone.
H: But you’re dressed, so I order you to undress. While you remove your jeans and shirt, I begin to soap up my body. I pour body wash onto a bath pouf and lather myself up. My body is quickly covered in bubbles, all over my breasts, my belly, my pussy. I run my fingers over my nipples and they’re so hard.
S: I’m naked in seconds. I step inside the shower and you make room for me. You’re so wet.
H: So wet for you.
S: You’re good at this.
H: You’re better.
A giggle escaped me as I continued to make waffles and sip coffee. I could hear the dinosaur documentary in the living room and Carly randomly repeating the different species as the documentary discussed them. “Hadrosaur.” “Therapod.” I thought I heard her say, “Archaeopteryx.” The girl can’t pronounce her own name correctly, but she can enunciate Archaeopteryx like a pro.
My phone buzzed again.
S: Your body is even more luscious in person than behind the glass. I can’t keep my hands off you. I cup your breasts and let my thumbs graze your nipples. You gasp. I pull on them. You gasp louder. Dipping low, I pull one into my mouth and tug, biting and pulling on the tight little nub.
H: I drop the pouf and let my hands drift down. I find you hard.
S: I’m so fucking hard.
I bet he was. Damn how I wished I wasn’t standing in the kitchen making Saturday morning waffles as my toddler watched television in the living room.
H: I grip you and start to pump. You’re big.
S: Damn straight.
Well, I’d walked into that one. I burst out laughing in the kitchen, nearly burning the waffle. I wiped the tears from my eyes before texting him back.
H: Water beads on your beard, I lean forward to kiss it off, loving how the bristles scratch my lips and cheeks.
S: You’ll love it even more when they scratch you elsewhere.
I squeezed my legs together and let my eyes close for a half a second from the delightful friction and the way the seam of my tight yoga pants brushed my clit. It wasn’t enough to get off, but it still felt pretty good.
H: I’m sure I will.
S: I drop to my knee and push your legs apart.
H: No. Kiss me first.
S: I will, but I get to pick the lips I kiss.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. This was absolute torture. He was texting back faster than I was and had an answer for everything. I flipped the last waffle onto the plate and shut off the iron, unplugging it while mindlessly gnawing on one of the cooler ones. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could continue with the dirty texting before I had to abandon my child and go take care of business in the bedroom. What on earth was Sam’s end game here?
S: Slowly, I part your lips and run a finger up through the center. You’re so wet and not just from the shower. Spreading you wide, I let my tongue dart out. I need to taste you, Harper. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since you walked through those playgroup doors six months ago.
Don’t forget to leave a comment and tell me which hero you think is the best at dirty talk. Also, don’t forget to let me know if you think another one of my heroes (who I haven’t included) has something really raunchy to say and I will make sure to do a PART 2 and include him next time!
A steamy Navy SEAL, billionaire heroine romantic suspense.
Get her home, don’t fall in love.
A harder job than this SEAL might think.
Roberto Cahill is all too familiar with difficult missions, but this particular one is proving to be the most challenging. Struggling to fit back into civilian life after retiring as a Navy SEAL, he started his own private investigation company, charging a small fortune to find people and their secrets. Recently hired by the wealthy McAllister brothers, finding their long-lost sister should be an easy assignment, right? Wrong. Skyler McAllister is one tough woman who’s on the run for her life. She has the smarts, skills and funds to keep herself on the move, and no matter how hard Rob tries, she always seems to always be one step ahead of him. Can Rob find her before whoever’s chasing her does? Can he deliver her to her brothers and out of harm’s way without letting the green-eyed vixen with a stubborn streak get captured? Or will letting his guard down be his most dangerous assignment of all?
Skyler McAllister is on the run. She knows too much and the men who murdered her boyfriend want her dead, too. With her late father’s inheritance funding her travels, and her skills forging passports helping her change her name and identity, she’s managed to stay under the radar and one step ahead of the bad guys. Only she lets her guard down when sexy, smooth-talking Cahill crosses her path. Not only do his kind eyes make her want to trust again, find a connection and someone to hold onto, but she finds herself falling for him. Only, she hasn’t trusted a soul in so long, it doesn’t come easily anymore and she struggles to let Rob in.
However, trust is the only way they’ll survive. With their lives endangered, can Skyler risk trusting a man again, particularly one who could so easily take her heart, then possibly walk away forever?
Sometimes being reckless can be a step in the right direction.
Abandoned at the altar, humiliated in front of everyone she knows, Silver Belle (save the stripper jokes, she’s heard them all), flees her wedding determined to erase her ex-fiance from her memory. There’s a soul-mate for everyone? What a joke: there’s obviously none for her. She’s done with love. Done with doing the right thing. So when she meets Warren McAllister, a heart-stopping, drool-worthy Australian, she throws caution—and propriety to the wind—and makes him an outrageous proposal.
Warren’s always up for a challenge, so when a beautiful stranger in a poufy white dress dares him to join her for a weekend of passion to erase her past, he’s more than willing to sign up. Sex is just sex, after all. Only saying goodbye is harder than he expected, and he can’t seem to forget her, even after heading back to Tahiti for work. So when he returns a year later for his mother’s wedding, he’s excited to see Silver, ready for another tryst—and possibly even more.
Stupid motherfucker. Selfish jackass. Prickless prick. If she ever saw that son of a bitch again, she’d rip his balls off with her bare hands and shove them down Candy’s throat. Lord knows that home-wrecking slut had other parts of Silver’s fiancé down her throat at some point.
Fuckers. Both of them. And they could rot in hell for all she cared.
Handing the cab driver a hundred dollar bill and not even bothering to get change, Silver stepped out of the taxi, slammed the door and made her way toward the wide double doors of the hotel bar. She’d asked the cabby to take her to a bar, far, far away from the church. To a place where she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew and could just wallow, drink and forget. He’d nodded solemnly, taking in her state of dress and tear-stained face, and then driven roughly forty minutes out of West Vancouver and toward downtown.
The June weather was warm. Perfect wedding weather. Fuck weddings. Fuck grooms. Fuck commitment. Fuck life.
The hinges squealed as she heaved on the brass handle and pulled open the door. The bar was dark, but clean and inviting. There were no weird stains on the carpet, the smell of Lemon Pledge hung gently in the air, and the bartender appeared to have all his teeth and not be a lecherous weirdo. Things were looking up … slightly.
It was a newer hotel, so everything still seemed shiny and fresh. Yet, even then, there was an Old World vibe to the place. A grand piano sat on a stage near the back along with a microphone stand, there were dark booths lining each of the walls, and all the lighting was muted and intimate. The perfect place to get lost in one’s problems and not be noticed by a soul as the alcohol slowly numbed the pain. Dusk was setting in, so the outside patio seemed to be hopping, but inside was still rather quiet, and only a scattering of people rimmed the horseshoe bar.
Silver pulled up a stool at the bar. It wasn’t lost on her that she was drawing a few glances. She was hard to miss. But she hadn’t had time to run home and change. At least not to their home. She fought back tears.
I will not cry.
Their home. God. She couldn’t live there anymore. Not with the knowledge that Trent had probably fucked Candy all over their goddamn apartment. Besides her clothes, Silver was going to have to burn the rest of her stuff, or at the very least disinfect the bejesus out of it.
She shuddered at the thought.
“What can I get you?”
Silver’s head snapped up from where she’d been staring at the engagement ring on her finger to find the bartender, an attractive man in his mid- to later fifties, giving her the curious lone eyebrow quirk. “I’m guessing something hard and mind-numbing?”
Silver nodded. “Sounds perfect.”
The bartender nodded back and walked away for a moment. He returned seconds later with a clean lowball glass and a bottle of what looked to be decent whiskey. He poured an ounce.
“More.” Silver nodded, tapping the bar.
He added another ounce, then glanced up at her.
When it was around four ounces she finally tapped the bar again. He sniffed through his nose and gave her a lopsided smile filled with sympathy before taking off to the other side of the bar.
Silver brought the glass to her lips and took a sip.
She took another sip.
It still burned.
But she liked the pain. It matched the pain in her heart. It matched the pain she wanted to inflict on Trent and Candy.
“People only drink like that for two reasons,” said a deep and sexy voice with what sounded like an Australian accent. “They’re either wallowing or celebrating. And I’m guessing right now,” his eyes traveled the length her, climbing her body with such lazy indulgence you’d think she was naked, “you’re the former.”
Yes, definitely an Aussie. Her skin broke out into gooseflesh despite the warmth of the bar. She could have sworn she felt his hand travel up her arm. But he was several seats over, and both his hands were cradling his beer bottle.
“What gave it away?” she asked with a snort.
His smile stole the breath from her lungs, and she swayed where she sat. Glancing briefly at her glass, Silver contemplated another sip. Was she already drunk? Or was he just that handsome?
“You here alone?” she asked. Glancing at her glass again, she shrugged, tipped it back and drained it. This time both the bushy brows of the bartender lifted on his forehead. She nodded. He was over in a jiff, topping her up.
Aussie man chuckled. Fuck, even his laugh was sexy. Throaty and deep, and just rough enough to suggest he may at one point have enjoyed the odd cigarette or indulged in a weekly cigar. He was tucked just far enough away, near the dimly lit corner of the bar, so she couldn’t quite tell how old he was or what color his eyes were. She knew his hair was dark, but if his eyes were blue, she was a goner.
“I’m here alone,” he finally answered. “Why do you ask?”
Silver’s eyes drifted to the vacant seat beside her. “I hate to drink alone,” she said.
Taking her invitation, he moved over three seats and joined her. One of the pot lights overhead was shining down on him now, giving her the perfect opportunity to see every inch of his big, hard body.
He was younger than she would have thought, given the deep voice, maybe twenty-eight or thirty? But his face didn’t hold an ounce of baby to it, it was all man. Chiseled and refined, with a dark, close-shaved scruff hugging his angular jaw.
His laugh stirred her from her scrutiny. “Ya done checking me out?”
Silver swallowed and removed her eyes from the V of his legs. Fuck, had she really been staring at the crotch of his dark-wash jeans? She was biting her lip, and her face was warm.
Yup, she had been.
With embarrassment clinging to every cell of her body, she slowly lifted her head.
Those were some blue eyes.
“Hmm?” he hummed.
Swallowing again, she nodded. “Uh-huh.”
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth again. Could she? Should she? She’d never done a reckless or spontaneous thing in her life, and look where that got her. Sitting in a random hotel bar on her wedding night, contemplating asking a hot, sexy foreigner to fuck her brains out on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Yep, if this wasn’t rock bottom, Silver didn’t know what was.
“You, ah, you staying at the hotel?” she asked, nerves running rampant through her at the idea of what she was doing. She’d never propositioned someone before; hell, she’d never even hit on a guy before. But just like a bolt of lightning, that whiskey hit her in the brain hard and then whooshed right down until her toes tingled. She could do this. She was going to do this. Tipping back her glass one more time, and with new whiskey-fueled confidence, she signaled for the bartender.
He was back in a flash. “Careful, Miss. I hope you intend to cab home.”
“Cabbed here,” she said, flashing him a big, drunk smile.
He nodded solemnly as he poured her two more ounces.
“So.” She turned to face Mr. Sexy-Accent Man. “You staying upstairs? Got a room?”
His smile was slow and sexy, and the way it made every muscle inside her clench had Silver crossing her legs and squeezing before she knew what she was doing. “I don’t fuck drunk chicks.”
Her bottom lip dropped open. “I … uh … ”
Reaching back down the bar closer to where he’d been sitting, he snatched a big leather menu off the top of a pile. “Pick something to eat. I’m buying. You need to put some food in your belly, otherwise you won’t be able to walk, let alone talk or fuck in an hour.”
“I … uh … ”
He flipped open the menu and started perusing. “I could go for a burger. You?”
She hadn’t even been thinking about food. After this afternoon, nothing but booze and lots of it had been on her mind. But then the more she thought about it, the more she realized she was starving. She’d been too nervous to eat this morning. Her aunt had said it was cold feet, the jitters, but now Silver thought perhaps it was intuition. That she knew, deep down, how the day was going to play out.
A burger sounded perfect. A greasy, gooey, cheesy burger with lots of fries. And onion rings. She didn’t have to fit into a dress anymore, so she’d eat whatever she wanted.
The best way to get over a millionaire is to get under a billionaire.
Travel writer Parker Ryan wants to erase every last trace of her ex from her mind, body, and soul, and what better way to forget a man than to take an all-expenses-paid trip to Tahiti? She’ll have ten days to write a feature piece about The Windward Hibiscus Resort. That leaves plenty of time for fun and sun—
And a smoking hot fling with Tate McAllister, billionaire resort owner, scuba instructor, philanthropist, and let’s face it—sex god.
Parker knows she’s not supposed to mix business with pleasure, but Tate’s ready and willing to wow her in and out of the bedroom. She can get the job done and let him fulfill all her fantasies, can’t she?
But she won’t, repeat—won’t—fall in love with the man. Even if every part of her wants to.
Getting over your ex isn’t as easy as getting back under them.
Heather Alvarez thought she was over Gavin McAllister. After all, he dumped her—on the phone—ten years ago, then vanished from her life and broke her heart. But now he’s back, and all Heather wants is revenge.
Or at the very least, the breakup sex he still owes her.
Ten years ago, Gavin McAllister made a choice and lost the one woman he’s ever loved. Now he’s determined to win her back, even if it means telling the truth. He’d do just about anything for another chance with Heather.
But a one-night stand, no strings, no future? He doesn’t think so.