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 Emmetts story …
Single dad of Seattle, Dr. Emmett Strong doesn’t believe in soulmates. Not since his ex-wife blindsided him with divorce papers, breaking not just his heart, but his daughter’s, as well. Eighteen months later, it’s just the two of them and he intends to keep it that way. He won’t hurt Josie again by bringing another woman into her life. However, fate has other plans and on New Year’s Eve, sparks instantly fly when he bumps into the intriguing and beautiful Zara.
Single mom and flower shop owner, Zara Olsen, has no time–or patience–for wishy-washy men who can’t commit., so she’s definitely not going to fall for the unavailable doctor. But when Emmett keeps getting thrown into her path, and the two wind up at the same New Year’s Eve party, she wonders if fate is trying to tell her he’s not so unavailable after all. He’s funny and kind, the chemistry between them is sizzling and it’s almost midnight. It must be time for a kiss. But when she finally gives into their attraction, she begins to regret it when Emmett starts acting strange.
Can Emmett set aside the past and reach for the bright future he could have with Zara, or will this New Year’s with the Single Dad end up being one Zara will remember, but would rather forget?
**Note: This book can be read as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, cursing, and of course as with all my books, this has an HEA and no cliffhanger or cheating. If you like single dads who take charge, this book is for you.
A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.
Knows his way around a woman’s body? CHECK CHECKITY CHECK CHECK
Title: Quick & Snowy
Series: Quick Billionaires, Book 5
Author: Whitley Cox
Genre: Steamy, Contemporary, Holiday Romance
Release Date: December 11, 2021
Get her to her family and home for Christmas. Keep it in your pants. Easier said than done.
Retired SEAL and now special operative, Barnes Wark just wants to finish his current job—find the long-lost McAllister sister—then escape to solitude in his beachside cottage. He’s not one for fuss, people or holiday cheer.
But for the last four months, every lead has been a dead end, and he’s getting pissed.
Hiding away in a seaside village in beautiful Portugal, he finally finds who he’s been searching for.
Unfortunately, she’s not leaving without a fight and that pisses him off even more.
Dr. Brier Scofield allows herself one indulgence in life and that’s one three-week vacation every year. With no family, she’s dedicated her life to curing the disease that killed her mother.
So when a handsome, but frustrating, stranger shows up and says she has family waiting for her in the snowy mountains, she doesn’t know what to think.
Going from no family to a ton seems daunting and something this quiet, introvert isn’t ready for.
Barnes doesn’t care if she’s ready or not, he has a job to do—and that job is her.
In more ways than one.
★★★★★ 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!”
He pulled the sheet away and watched as a new layer of gooseflesh chased across her skin.
He wanted to feel those bumps beneath his lips.
Melt them with the heat of his tongue.
Setting the plate off to the side, he leaned forward, and from just above her crease, he ran his tongue up the length of her spine, feeling her tremble and shiver beneath him. He ended at her neck and gently bit her shoulder.
She relaxed into the bed.
Yes.
The woman needed to fucking relax.
He’d never met someone who was constantly so tightly wound.
He’d watched her unravel and loosen up just a bit on the plane when he slid his fingers beneath her pants, but even then, even as she allowed him to bring her to orgasm and suck on her nipples, she hadn’t allowed herself to completely let go.
What was “relaxed” Brier like? When she truly allowed herself to be free of worry.
He wanted to find out more than he’d wanted to find out anything in a long fucking time.
Swirling his tongue over her shoulder and down her arm, he brushed her hair off her face to find her looking at him.
The smile in her eyes hit him hard in the solar plexus, and a breath hitched in his chest.
But he made sure to hide his physiological response from his face.
If she got even a whiff of anything, she could shut down all of this.
She couldn’t know that he was beyond having temporary feelings for her. That parts of him wanted to explore this connection, this friendship they had, beyond their time in Whistler.
Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Her eyes closed.
He’d made sure to place the plate with orange slices within reach, and while still kissing her, still giving her attention, he reached for a slice, brought it over and squeezed it over her bare back.
Starting at the base of her spine, right above her crease, he moved his hand up the length of her body.
She inhaled sharply, and her eyes widened.
He grinned down at her, then brought the now empty and crumpled orange slice in front of her face.
Understanding dawned on her face. But her eyes remained wide.
Intrigue and desire replaced the surprise, burning hot and making the green of her eyes intensify in color.
He moved away from her face and back toward her butt. Her gaze followed him.
He didn’t have to see her eyes to know they were glued to his every movement.
He could feel the heat of her stare. Sense the ripping vortex of desire and unease that dueled within her.
She wanted this.
But she didn’t think she should.
“Relax, Bry,” he cooed. Before dipping his head, he swirled the tip of his tongue at the top of her crease for just a moment, then raked his tongue up the length of her spine, gathering the droplets of sweet juice as he went.
She stiffened beneath him.
He felt her tense.
Felt her walls start to go up.
She was stepping out of her comfort zone, and he needed to let her know that it was okay to do so. That she was safe to be herself with him. Safe to let go.
When he reached the back of her neck, he bit down just hard enough to send her a message. Then he slid his hands over hers, which were flat above her on the bed, and he covered her body.
He didn’t put all of his weight on her, but he put a bit.
“You are safe, Bry. Safe with me. Nobody can hurt you here. Nobody outside of the people in this room need you for anything other than for your desires to be fulfilled. Turn off your worries. Let yourself relax. You’re safe to be yourself with me.”
Quick puffs of warm arm fled her flaring nostrils.
He glanced at her. She looked up at him.
Both of them were keenly aware of his erection laying against the crack of her ass. Particularly her, because when he lowered himself onto her a little more, she clenched her cheeks.
“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, Bry. But something tells me you want to do more than you’re willing to admit … to me or even to yourself. Give yourself a gift for Christmas. The gift of not overthinking. The gift of just going with the flow. Of giving in to your basest, most animalistic and carnal desires.”
She shivered beneath him when he said that last bit.
“You might just surprise yourself with how much you enjoy this other side of yourself. How freeing it is.” He brought his mouth down next to her ear. “How much you like to be dirty.”
A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.
Christmas, a time for family, cheer and Joy getting her groove back.
It’s nearly Christmas and the Hart brothers and their families are getting ready for another loud, crazy and wonderful holiday. But when they show up at their mother’s house with a freshly cut tree in tow, they’re in for a surprise nobody ever expected.
After losing her husband thirty years ago, Joy Hart raised her four sons on her own, got her doctorate, and became an accomplished sex and relationship therapist. As much as she loves being a nana, a mom, and a mother-in-law, she’s far from dead and wants more in her life. For a long time, she pretended she was satisfied with the flings she had while away at conferences. Love was not on her radar. But a chance meeting with a dashing man has opened this Hart’s heart to new possibilities.
Too bad her sons aren’t on board with the new man in their mother’s life. They’re giving Grant the gears and think he’s all wrong for their mother—for their family. He has no place at their Christmas dinner table, and the Harty Boys are determined to get the dirt on Grant before the timer on the oven says the turkey is done.
Will Brock, Chase, Rex and Heath take things too far and ruin Christmas for everyone with their stubborn, meddling, alpha ways? Or will Grant save the day, save Christmas and prove to everyone that Joy deserves a happily ever after just like the rest of them?
Trigger warning: miscarriage
POV: All (Brock, Krista, Chase, Stacey, Rex, Lydia, Heath, Pasha, Joy and Grant)
**Note: This is the fifth book in the Harty Boys Series. It’s highly recommended to read the Harty Boys quartet first. But not every Hart found their soulmate, so I thought why not give Joy the happily ever after she deserves too? So grab your rum and eggnog, put your fuzzy slippers up, get cozy by the fire and dive into a fun, read featuring your favorite family at Christmas time.
**Note: The political views represented in this book do not necessarily reflect those of the author. This is fiction and characters are given their own thoughts, ideas, morals, ethics, religious and political opinions to make them seem more realistic.
“Hearts will be full. Completely one of those books I will read and re-read again and again. (Nicki ~ The Overflowing Bookcase ~Goodreads Reviewer)
“This is a magical read. It’s fun, it’s entertaining, it’s emotional and it’s full of the Christmas spirit mixed with some heartbreaking moments. I loved everything about this book. I laughed, I swooned and I sighed and I cried. Full Hart really tied this series together and I’m certain I will be re reading all of the books time and time again.” (Jackie Wright ~ Goodreads Reviewer)
“I can’t express how much I loved this book! Grant was perfect for Joy! I love all the characters from this series and their interactions. They can be so funny! It made for a very enjoyable and entertaining book! (Cynthia Hughes ~Amazon Reviewer)
The click of a bedroom door had them all pausing, including everyone on the threshold.
Brock watched the knob turn and the door open.
His heart was in his throat.
Making gimme fingers to his wife, he asked for the gun.
“I’m a better shot than you are,” she muttered, elbowing him out of the way.
Holding his breath and not blinking, he kept his gaze focused on where his mother’s bedroom door was and the whispers filtering out of it. It was two people. He knew that now.
“Mum?” he barked, making his wife in front of him jump, glance at him over her shoulder, and glare.
A head poked out from the doorway, and his mother’s brows furrowed.
Sighs echoed through all of them.
“What the hell are you doing with that, Krista? Put that away right now,” his mother ordered, stepping into the hallway, all four feet eleven inches of her.
“Sorry,” Krista murmured, stowing the gun in the holster clipped to her belt.
Their mother approached. “What is going on?”
“I’d like to ask you the same question,” Brock said, realizing he was still holding the damn tree on his shoulder. He leaned it up against the wall. “Why didn’t you answer us? Why is the house cold, dark, and quiet? Why are the curtains pulled? Whose truck is that?”
Color burned in his mother’s cheeks.
“Yes,” Krista said in what sounded like a hiss. Her smile grew mischievously wide.
Yes?
Brock took in his mother’s appearance for a moment.
She was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a long-sleeved button-up blouse of some light shade of pink. But the buttons were askew, not fastened properly. The shirt was also wrinkled. Her hair was disheveled, too.
Which was so unlike Joy Hart.
The woman was always put together.
For as long as Brock could remember, his mother had tucked her hair up into a no-nonsense bun on the back of her head and rarely was a hair ever out of place. But the bun on the top of her head now looked like it’d been tossed up in haste.
Her lips were also puffy.
And there was a red rash or something on her cheeks.
A throat cleared down the hallway, and Brock lifted his head.
He could hear his mother swallow as he watched a man about the same height and build as himself walk down the hall, buttoning his shirt.
“What the fuc—”
“Watch it,” his mother said.
“Holy crap,” Rayma murmured behind Brock. “Have him stripped, bathed, and brought directly to my tent.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“He’s old enough to be your dad,” Heath scolded her.
“And I’m sure he could help me work through any daddy issues I may have,” Rayma retorted. “And for the record, all y’all burly Harty Boys are old enough to be my father. Hasn’t stopped the fantasies during the dry spells.”
“Rayma!” Pasha admonished, nearly dropping her son as she gaped at her twenty-something sister. “That’s my husband.”
Brock noticed Rayma’s indifferent shrug. “I know, and I’m respectful. It’s not like in my fantasies we’re cheating. You’ve been dead a respectable amount of time, and I’m there for Heath to help him raise the children on his own.”
“You kill me?” Pasha practically screamed.
“This just keeps getting better,” Lydia, Rex’s wife, said with a chuckle.
The man from the hallway with the dark, close-cropped hair, facial scruff, and light gray eyes came up suspiciously close behind Brock’s mother and rested his hand on her shoulder.
Brock’s body turned molten hot.
He heard his brothers grunt and suck in breaths beside and behind him.
Their mother glanced at the man behind her, smiled, and turned back to the rest of them. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Grant.”
A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes. A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.
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?
It worked.
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.
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.
Joy.
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.
A lot can happen in twenty-four hours …
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?
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.”
