★★★★★ Goodreads Review – “Two of my favourite themes are holidays and mystery/suspense; so for me Quick and Snowy was a perfect blend for me.”
★★★★★ Goodreads Review – “If you love holiday romances with some mystery this book should certainly be on your radar.”
★★★★★ Goodreads Review – “Author Whitley Cox gives readers a lovely story around newly found family (it’s huge) and Christmas, then add in two introverts who get each other and discover that there is sizzling hot chemistry between them!”
She wiped her wrist beneath her nose. “I was scared, and you helped me. You showed me compassion and care. You gave me strength when I had none. I wanted to replace the memories of last night with something better, with something good. I didn’t think that what we did last night would make it difficult for you to look at me the next day. Would make it difficult for you to be around me, to talk to me. Had I known it would, I wouldn’t have—” She turned her head and wiped beneath her eyes.
An ache filled his chest.
In a couple of long strides, he ate up the distance between them, grabbing her by the shoulders and bending his knees until they were eye to eye. What stared back at him fucking killed him.
But he didn’t know what to say. An apology would be hollow and lackluster. Or at least that’s what he thought. An apology wasn’t enough. What he had to give her, what he had in his heart just wasn’t enough.
She blinked damp, spiked lashes at him, looking through him, seeing all of him.
As she went to speak, he crushed his mouth to hers, smothering her words. He released her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugged her into his body. She groaned and gripped his T-shirt tight, his dog tags too. It was like she was holding on for dear life. But it was actually him who was holding on to her. Grappling for the last remaining threads of his sanity, of his humanity … of his soul. Sweeping through her mouth, his tongue swirled around hers, massaging and sucking, tasting a delicacy he knew he didn’t deserve.
He knew it was wrong. The whole thing between them was wrong. It’d been wrong the first time he’d kissed her, then the second and every time after that. But he couldn’t stop.
He wanted her to demand they stop, to see the man that he really was and realize she was better off walking away. That he couldn’t give her what she needed, what she deserved.
He also wanted her to beg him for more, to take what she could from him, what he could offer her, even if it wasn’t much.
She pushed him away, her chest heaving with heavy pants, her eyes bright and lips puffy. “What are we doing, Aaron?” She stepped away from him and turned around. “What do you want from me?”
Fuck if he knew.
Could everything and nothing be the right answer?
He wanted everything she had to give him, but he also knew that it was better to ask her for nothing, because how could you ask someone to give you all they had when you had so little to give in return?
She spun to face him. “I like you. I’m attracted to you. I want you. I also love my job. I’m in love with your baby, and I don’t want to lose Sophie.” She swallowed. “Or you. But if this is going to be too much for you, I can step back. I can just be the nanny.”
An author friend of mine just released the sixth book in her sports romance series, but of course, Amazon had to go and be a dick and mess with her release. So, I’m spreading the word to let you all know about Tina Gallagher’s new release.
Grab it HERE
Will their shot at happily ever after be a homerun, or a foul ball? There’s only one way to find out…
I was living the good life.
Between my pro baseball career, full dating life, and supportive (if somewhat intrusive) family, I had everything I’d ever wanted. Love was not in my master plan.
Then I saw her.
I never believed in love at first sight, but Anjannette Peach made me reconsider. I know she’s The One.
Now I just have to convince her of that. Should be easy for a guy like me, right?
The last thing I need is a new man in my life.
My pole dance fitness studio keeps me way too busy to worry about romance, anyway. Hell, I don’t even miss sex anymore.
At least I didn’t. Until he showed up.
Leo Marakis is dangerously tempting. I’d love nothing more than to spend hours tangled in sweaty sheets with the sexy ballplayer.
So, what’s holding me back? That’d be my poor, scarred heart.
Not that it really matters. I mean, there’s no way he’s as sincere as he seems…right?
I stepped into the hallway and walked toward the stairs. I was rounding the landing when the unmistakable thump of Fat Bottomed Girls pounded out of the open door on the first floor. I jogged down the rest of the way and walked over to peek inside.
I never believed in falling in love at first sight, but good Lord, I fell into something the moment I spotted her. With her long limbs, porcelain skin, and platform boots, she looked like some kind of goddess as she climbed the pole. When she reached the top, she released her left hand and extended her arm out to the side and held on by her right hand and her ankles as she spun around and around. With her body away from the pole, she gripped it with her right hand near her thigh then wrapped her right leg around the pole and continued to spin with her right arm extended.
My sister Angie used to have a musical jewelry box with a ballerina inside that would spin around when the top was opened. That’s exactly what the woman on the pole looked like.
I watched in awe as she straightened her legs and rolled around the pole then tipped back and hooked her left leg, seeming to hang on by the back of her knee. She arched and grabbed the heel of her right boot as she kept spinning around and around. I was getting dizzy just watching.
She let go of her boot and kicked her left leg back toward her head. And I don’t know how it happened, but next thing I knew, she was hanging upside down in a full split.
Hooking her left leg around the pole again, she wrapped one arm behind her and grabbed on. Twisting her body, she straightened her legs until she hung upside down with her back against the pole. She looked like a sexy bat.
Freddie Mercury continued to sing about how fat-bottomed girls make the world go round and I have to agree. Not that the enchantress in front of me has a fat anything, but her bottom is perfectly rounded, especially in comparison to her slim figure and tiny frame.
Releasing her hands, she let her arms hang toward the ground while just her knees held her to the pole. She slid down slowly until her fingertips brushed the floor as she continued to spin. Around and around she went until she finally placed her hands flat on the floor slowing the momentum. Once the spinning stopped, she let her legs fall back until her feet landed against the hardwood floor with a bang.
She stood, whipping her hair over her shoulders and gripped the pole again. Before executing another mind-boggling trick, her eyes widened when she spotted me.
Her sky-high heels added a sexy sway to her hips as she walked in my direction. My mind raced as I tried to think of something to say that would accurately convey how much her performance blew me away. But I didn’t have to worry about it because she didn’t give me a chance to speak.
“Show’s over,” she said, and slammed the door in my face.
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I can remember the exact moment I thought up the idea of Quick & 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 & Easy was 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.
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PREORDER
Here’s an excerpt of Quick & Snowy for you.
“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.
COMING NOVEMBER 13, 2021
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PREORDER
I don’t talk about this series much, but I should.
Have you read The Dark and Damaged Hearts?
The first romance book I ever started writing was Sex, Heat and Hunger (James and Emma’s story). I started writing it after our six-month, twelve-country backpack trip. I’d really gotten into reading romance while we traveled, and I read some great books, and some really not great books. However, it was those really not great books that prompted me to think, “I could do this. I could do better than this.”
I know what you’re probably thinking, “how arrogant!”
And in a way it was. But it was also what led to me to go back to my one true passion which was writing, so however terrible some of those books may have been, I will be forever grateful to them for helping me get back to what I love. And no, it doesn’t matter what the names of those terrible books were, that’s not the point. It’s also just fuel for an argument, because I KNOW a lot of people LOVED those books, so I’m not going to go there. Some people don’t like my books, and that is 100% okay. That’s the beauty of romance books, there is something out there for everyone!
James and Emma’s story took me over a year and a half to write. Mostly because I was just doing it in the evenings after work and wasn’t really serious about it. I just had a story in my head and needed to get the words down. There was no plan to publish or anything like that. Then, I finished their book and decided I wanted to give Justin and Kendra their own story. Only, since Justin and Kendra were already married in James and Emma’s book, I needed to go back five years and dig into their beginning which is why their book, Love, Passion and Power is book 1 and 2 in The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series.
I was almost finished Justin and Kendra’s story by the time I had my first daughter. And it was her birth and the complete and total upheaval of my life that prompted me to start writing Amy and Garrett’s story, True, Deep and Forever. Only, instead of going back even further in time to their beginning, I wanted to write about what happened after they said “I do.” Because life doesn’t end when you get married. The drama and dilemmas, the arguments and frustrations don’t immediately stop the moment you kiss at the altar and are declared “husband and wife.” If anything, all the trials and tribulations of being “bound” to someone else for the rest of your life, are just getting started when you slide on those rings.
It’s easy to see how much Garrett and Amy love each other. Their romance was intense from the very beginning. She was a bit of a wildling and he was clean-cut and trying to make a name for himself in the architectural world. Together, they grew up, got married and started a family.
But they don’t call it the “seven-year itch” for nothing.
Nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors. Or what goes on behind a closed bedroom door.
So, I wanted to take a stab at writing a “beyond the happily ever after moment”
To show you the nitty gritty, the ups and downs of marriage and how kids, work and daily stressors can impact a couple.
Now, in no way is this a glimpse into my marriage. Not at all.
But I will say some of the conversations, the one-liners are similar to those I’ve had with my husband. And the way Amy thinks about herself, and some of the things she experienced as a new mother are reflective of how I was feeling at the time when I wrote it. The insecurities, the dark thoughts, the total disorganization and slow loss of self. This books was more than just a story for me. It was therapy.
Becoming a new mom is really fucking hard and if you know me and my writing, I don’t sugarcoat crap.
I actually had to tone things down, and cut a bunch of stuff, because in the end, I went too deep. But I still have those scenes, and they were still the therapy I needed.
You’d be surprised how much ends up on the “cutting room floor” or in the author world we call it “killing our darlings.” A lot of stuff gets cut because it ends up bogging down the story, not making sense, or not working well within the tone of the scene or book. But often those scenes or lines that get cut are some of our very best work. Our darlings. So have I them tucked away in a file, because in some ways they were like a journal for me. A way to express how I was feeling in an indirect way. It was almost like Amy was my safety veil, my nursing cover, or big baggy T-shirt to hide my mummy tummy. I’m not Amy, but I sure understand how she was feeling.
Like all the books in The Dark and Damaged Hearts series, True, Deep and Forever is a duet. In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t split them into duets, but live and learn. They originally hadn’t been separate books, but advice for various people and word-length had me tweaking the books and cutting them in half. Oh well. What’s done is done. I’m still really proud of them.
Anyway, here is a small excerpt of True, Deep and Forever: Part 1. I hope you enjoy it. 🙂
“What are you doing down here in the middle of the night … eating ice cream?” Garret asked, lazily sauntering into the kitchen and pulling out the chair next to me, knuckling sleep from his eyes. He wasn’t wearing anything besides his Fruit of the Loom boxers, and there was a healthy prickling of hair on his chin and scalp. Pillow creases ran across one side of his face, and the half-pitched tent in his pants told me he’d been having a racy dream.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I muttered, shoveling another spoonful of Turtles ice cream into my mouth, cringing immediately from the brain freeze.
Why’d I have to make my bites so bloody big?
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
More like a ton on my mind. Most of that was Daxon van Camp, but a bit of it was also Christopher Weston and the thought of possibly running my own gallery. Could I do it? Since Christopher had offered me the job, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. What would I name it? How would I run it? How would I decorate it? What artists would I approach? The idea of running my own gallery, or running a gallery for someone, kept sleep on the run, so instead, like any person with an addiction, I turned to my vice.
Garret nodded methodically, a half-smile turning up at the corner of his mouth when he realized there was no way in hell I was going to offer him a spoon or give him mine. We might be teaching Henry to share, but I was a grown-up, and grown-ups don’t always have to share. “Is that good ice cream?” he asked. “I can’t decide if I like the Turtles or the Rollo better.”
“Turtles all the way!” I scoffed. “The pecans are what makes it. Plus, the chocolate is better quality.”
“I seem to remember other ways, besides gorging ourselves on chocolate, at”—he leaned over to check the clock on the microwave—“two-thirty in the morning that we spent our time. And we usually always fell asleep right after. That rush of dopamine, ain’t nothing better.”
I smirked and snorted a laugh through my nose. “I’m sorry, but as much fun as being thrown down on the table and ravished right now sounds, I just can’t.”
He dropped to his knees and brought his chair around, grabbing my leg and placing my foot on the seat. “No, you can’t. But I can. It doesn’t always have to be fifty-fifty. Sometimes you can just spread your legs and let me lick your clit until you scream.” He grinned like the devil. “Let me, Ames.” His eyes lifted as he hiked up my nightshirt to my waist. “Let me make my wife feel good.”
Eight years ago, Garret Banks swept me clear off my feet, catching me before I fell on my ass.
Our love was instantaneous, all-consuming and intense. We never thought the flame would die down, let alone extinguish.
We have everything we’ve ever wanted. Successful careers, a beautiful son and a rock-solid marriage. We’re living the dream. Right?
But how quickly dreams can turn into nightmares. Garret’s job is taking its toll on him, my whole world seems to be in shambles, and now I’ve got to deal with a blast from my past I thought I’d long buried. And that past wants answers—answers I’m not willing to give.
We grab quick and dirty sex when we can, but that just doesn’t seem to be enough and our marriage feels more tested and strained than ever before.
I was sure that I’d found my knight in shining armor, my happily ever after, my forever, but my marriage is being forced to bend more than it should—more than it can. So much so that I’m afraid it might just snap.
It’s here! It’s finally here!
Dancing with the Single Dad audiobook is finally live.
I’m probably going to say this about each audiobook when it comes out, but I’m honestly so in love with the way Gregory Salinas and Erin Bateman brought Adam and Violet to life. Gregory nailed the slight southern twang, and gave Adam the perfect blend of shy but quiet alpha qualities I was going for. And Erin truly brought everything I envisioned Violet to be completely to life.
I’ll also admit that since this is only book two in The Single Dads of Seattle and I wrote it back in early 2019, it was like revisiting old friends when I listened to the whole story. There were scenes I forgot about, hilarious one-liners I forgot I’d wrote. In a lot of ways it was like reading a brand new book (well, not brand new, but darn close). I’ve written a lot of books since writing Dancing with the Single Dads, and since I’ve written SO MANY single dads it can be tough to keep track of them. I caught myself laughing a lot. I’d even say under my breath, “I’m fucking hilarious.” The dog would then turn around to look at me like I was crazy. I’d tell him to keep moving and finally crap somewhere.
I also forgot about how deeply emotional this book was. Violet deals with the loss of Jean-Phillipe and her father, and Adam is dealing with the end of his marriage. It’s some heavy shit. And those sex scenes!!! Again, I forgot about a lot of this book, including that college professor office scene. I’m sure my cheeks were bright red if anybody passed me while I was walking. Hopefully they just assumed I was flushed from exercise and the warm weather, and not the dirty words I’d written.
Here’s a sample!
I loved Gregory as Adam so much that I’ve decided to cast him again. I’m confident that he will do an awesome job as Aaron Steele in Living with the Single Dad, Book 4 of The Single Dads of Seattle. I’ve also decided to cast Zachary Johnson (Mark from Hired by the Single Dad) as Zak for Christmas with the Single Dad, Book 5 of the The Single Dads of Seattle.
I can’t wait to hear what you guys think about the newest audiobook. I hope you love the narrators as much as I do.
The narrators for Saved by the Single Dad are hard at work bringing Paige and Mitch to life, so hopefully that audiobook can go live this fall.
This single dad romance is one Audiobook deal you won’t want to miss!
Dancing with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 2) by Whitley Cox
Narrated by Erin Bateman and Gregory Salinas
Produced & Published by Pink Flamingo Productions
⚠️Get the E-Book for $3.99 (or free in KU!!!) and Add Audio Whispersync for $7.49!
Amazon US BUY THE EBOOK
Audible US 🎧 BUY THE AUDIOBOOK
Whispersync Blitz Hosted By Audiobook Obsession
Haven’t read book 1 in The Single Dads of Seattle Series? If you like single dads who take charge, this book is for you!
⚠️Get the E-Book for $3.99 (or free in KU!!!) and Add Audio Whispersync for $7.49!
Hired by the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 1) by Whitley Cox
Narrated by Allyson Voller and Zachary Johnson
Produced & Published by Pink Flamingo Productions
Amazon US BUY THE EBOOK
Audible US 🎧 BUY THE AUDIOBOOK
Dancing with the Single Dad Blurb:
Hanging up your dancing shoes isn’t so easy when you can’t let go of your former dance partner.
Welcome to Seattle, the Emerald City and home to the Single Dads of Seattle. Ten sexy, single fathers who play poker every Saturday night, have each other’s backs, love their children without quarter, and hope to one day find love again.
This is Adam’s story….
Single dad of Seattle Adam Eastwood knows that dance school is just the thing for his precocious daughter, Mira. She already spends most days twirling around the house in a tutu and tiara, why not pay a professional to teach her how to do it properly? Only Adam didn’t account for that professional to be the Violet Benson from a very famous New York ballet company. Not only is Violet a natural beauty who floats more than she dances, but she’s the kind of woman Adam’s been searching for all his life.
Grieving the loss of her dance partner and boyfriend, Violet is done with performing on stage. How can she go on when the love of her life is no longer there to catch her? Deciding a change is best, she moves back home to Seattle, determined to fulfill their dream of opening up a dance school. It’s not until she’s asked to dance for Art in the Park that she realizes maybe she’s not quite ready to hang up her dance shoes. Would it be wrong to take the stage one last time? It must be wrong to feel what she feels when she’s dancing with Mira’s handsome father.
Adam’s wounds are still fresh from his divorce, and Violet’s dealing with a loss of her own, but somehow they keep winding up in each other’s arms with neither of them willing to let go. But it’s never easy to conquer the past. Will Violet let fear and grief keep her from her dreams? Or will Adam convince her that the show must go on and dancing with the single dad might just be the way for her to find her happily ever after?
Note: This book can be listened to as a stand-alone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, cursing, and, of course, as with all my books, this has an HEA and no cliff-hanger or cheating. If you like single dads who take charge, this book is for you.
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Hey there my fabulously filthy friend,
If you’re wondering where I’ve been the last few days and why the radio silence, it was because I took the little humans camping.
Well, not JUST camping. Last weekend, we finally got to celebrate my mom’s 60th birthday (which was April 14th). But because of COVID restrictions, we were forced to reschedule until now. My brother and his fiancee flew out from Canmore, Alberta, we booked a professional photographer and did a big family photo session. Then my brother, his fiancee, my husband and I all cooked all weekend long so that “the mothership” as we affectionately call her didn’t have to lift a finger. We went to the beach, sat around reminiscing, picked berries in the backyard, went for a hike, and just spent time together as a family. It was wonderful. Now, we impatiently wait as our brilliant photographer edits the photos. As an artist myself, I know that brilliance can’t be rushed (I’m totally saying all of this about myself sarcastically), but not getting to see the photos is legit driving my mom mental.
After the fun-filled family weekend, I packed up the girls and we went to Miracle Beach provincial park for two days of camping “fun.” I’m not a fan of sleeping on the ground. Never have been . Not even in my partying days where we drank until we were numb and passed out on the nearest flat surface. Even then, the ground was not my jam. But, it’s not all about me, so I pulled up my big girl panties, packed the RAV until it was close to bursting and set out for two days of dirty feet and sand everywhere.
WAY OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE!
Let’s just leave it at that. I’ve done the dirty hobo backpacker thing where you stink for days, your nails all break and no matter what you just can’t get your feet clean. Been there, done that, got the photos to back it up. But I’m also over it. I’m not twenty-five anymore. I threw my upper back and shoulder out using two computer screens for work. I want a little bit of luxury in my life. Like a bed. And a shower. And four sturdy walls around me that don’t flap in the breeze. I’m not asking for much. And, chastise me for saying this if you must, I’m also not a huge fan of sleeping with my children.
Don’t get me wrong, I love cuddling them, hugging them and showering them with all the love. But now that they’re not babies, they’re really fucking annoying to share a bed with. They’re movers, and the oldest one is like 90% limbs. Meanwhile, for some reason, even while sleeping, the Tiny Human just knows I’m there and wraps her arm around my neck like I’m a stuffed animal. Maybe she can sleep like that, but the Mama Bear sure as hell can’t.
And of course, what inaugural camping trip wouldn’t be complete without a popped air mattress? Certainly not ours. And on the first night, too! The three of us ended up rolling in toward the middle, piling up on each other. Thinking back on it all, it was hilarious and something we’ll be able to laugh about for years. But at time, I was a grumbling mess. How on earth could my three year old sleep through her sister crushing her while she simultaneously crushed me?
Anyway, we survived. They had fun, which was what it was all about, and now I know I need to make myself a “to pack” list and include butter/oil on it. Along with backup blow up mattresses.
But I went WAAAAAAY out of my comfort zone, that’s what I’m getting at here.
Kudos to those of you who love to camp, but you’re not my spirit animal and I think we can still be friends. Just don’t expect me to nod until my neck snaps if you suggest we go on a trip with tents into the back country. I’ll wave you off, give you a can of bear spray and say, “see you when you get back.”
At this point (if you’re still reading) you’re probably wondering where on earth is she going with this diatribe and how is going to circle it back to writing a Christmas story with ten POVs. Well, I am, just wait.
If you remember, a few years ago, I wrote Snowed In & Set Up. It was the first Christmas story I ever wrote, as well as the first third person POV story I ever wrote. Up until then all my stories were first person and ONLY in the POV of the heroine. Quick and Dirty, Lust Abroad, all of the Dark and Damaged Hearts.
Well, I got it in my head that this story needed to have six POVs. All three couples deserved equal “screen time” and the book just wouldn’t work from only a few POVs. So I dove headfirst into the murky stream of my own consciousness, completely unsure if I’d hit the bottom or glide right out into clearer water.
I took the plunge.
I took the leap.
And you know what?
Loads of reviews indicate that readers were unsure how six POVs was going to work, but they were surprised and delighted that it did. Hey, if George R.R. Martin can bounce around in everybody’s brain, why can’t I? I am NOT comparing myself to the all powerful George, but I’m just saying, if he can do it, why can’t I try?
It was from that book on that I started writing all my books in third person with alternating POV. And I love it. I could never go back to singular POV and only if you twisted my arm (like my co-writing partner did) go back to first person POV.
So, when I got the idea to write the fifth and final Harty Boys book, I knew that I wanted to try my hand (or fingers) at another multi-POV story. And I figured this was the perfect opportunity to do it. Yes, of course, I want Joy to have screen time, as well as her hunk of burning love, Grant. But since Full Hart is meant to take place a couple of years after Dark Hart ended, I also wanted to give you real updates on all the Harty Boys and their families. So much has happened to this family over the years, that they each deserve to reflect on how far they’ve come in their own POVs.
So yes, Full Hart will be told from the point of view of ten different people. Brock and Krista, Chase and Stacey, Rex and Lydia, Heath and Pasha, and Joy and Grant. It will be jam-packed with funny moments, one-liners, sexy times, holiday cheer, angst, frustration and even a little bit of sadness. If you know me and my books, you know I keep things real. People die, women lose babies, men cry and the world keeps turning through it all.
You can definitely expect fun, sexy times in Full Hart, but be prepared for shit to also get real.
I’m taking the plunge with this book. Going way out of my comfort zone once again. I’ve gone from six POVs in Snowed In & Set Up to ten POVs. I didn’t stop in the middle at eight. Go big or go home, right?
Just like I did with camping on the ground with my children (because our mattress popped and we legit were ON THE GROUND) I’m trying something new. It might work, it might not. But at least I’m going to give it a go.
Coming October 9, 2021
Here’s an excerpt of Full Hart for you.
Even now, with her gone, that smile was what kept him getting up each morning and continuing with his life.
That smile … and the woman who had just shut her car door outside and was making her way up the path to his house.
Could she have been named any more perfectly?
Because she certainly sparked joy in him.
She rekindled flames inside him he’d thought had long been extinguished, had long turned to nothing more than cold, damp coal.
Smiling, he glanced at Daphne’s photo. “You like her, don’t you?”
Daphne just showed him those blinding white teeth, dimples, and rosy cheeks.
She would have liked Joy.
He picked up both wine glasses and booked it to the front door, opening it just as she was lifting her little fist to knock.
Her smile winded him and her eyes twinkled. “I forget sometimes that you’re one of those kinds of men.”
“One of what kind?” he asked playfully, taking her overnight bag from her and handing her the stemless wine glass.
“Military trained with impeccable hearing, instincts, and senses. You probably knew I was in the neighborhood before I even parked my car.” She took a sip of the wine and made a sexy little humming sound in delight.
“Not quite, but I did hear you shut your car door.” He set her bag down on the arm of the couch, took her wine glass from her, and set both their glasses on the table beside Daphne’s photo. Then he wrapped his arms around her small frame, and she did the same to him.
He was over a foot taller than her, standing at six-one—he’d been six-three at his tallest, but age was causing him to shrink—and she was only four-eleven, but her personality made her appear so much taller.
With twinkling blue eyes, her ballerina bun tucked up on her crown with not a hair out of place, and fresh glossy lipstick, she tilted her head up to look at him. “Smells good. And I don’t just mean dinner.”
His chuckle came out raspy since his throat had suddenly gone dry as he mentally prepared himself for what he wanted to say.
“You smell good, too,” he said, ducking down and taking her mouth for a moment.
She hummed against his lips, parting hers so he could sweep his tongue inside. Her grip around his neck tightened and she pulled him down, pressing her hips against his.
Joy Hart was a passionate woman. She also knew her way around a man’s body and had taught Grant a thing or two about his own pleasure.
He’d been reluctant at first—even a little scared—but she was gentle and patient with him, and showed him just how much more he could enjoy sex with a little bit of imagination.
He’d felt like a bit of a chump when they first got together. Although he’d had ample sex in his life with Daphne, he’d only ever had sex with one woman. Joy was a lot more experienced than he was, and the fact that she was a sex and relationship therapist—specializing in sexuality—meant she was a lot more comfortable discussing things than he or Daphne had ever been.
Joy had even ironically nicknamed him Wild Man, not only because his last name was Wild, but because he wasn’t exactly “adventurous” or “worldly” in the bedroom.
The nickname had kind of stuck.
Coming October 9, 2021
“The book gets wildly intense and had me biting my nails! The suspense was killing me. They way this book ends is absolutely perfect. This author never fails to amaze me. Another bestseller!” (Nora Houston ~ Amazon Reviewer)
“The things he’s done, the things he’s seen, who wouldn’t have a dark heart. Betrayed by someone you loved will make you darker. Can Heath find the light or will the dark just get darker? A read that will keep you on the edge.” (Vickie Komarek, Amazon Reviewer)
“A few laugh out loud moments, more than a few suspenseful times and a lot of hot times. What more could you ask for?.” (Sue Hancock~ Goodreads Reviewer)