It's definitely the SIZE of the boat too. And I've got both firing on all cylinders. In fact, I have ALL the right assets. Looks, brains, my own money, and a big c*&k.You might think I'm an a*&hole. I sound like one, don’t I? I'm hot as sin, rich as heaven, smart as hell and hung like a horse.Guess what? You haven't heard my story before. Sure, I might be a playboy, like the NY gossip rags call me. But I’m the playboy who’s actually a great guy. Which makes me one of a kind. The only trouble is, my dad needs me to cool it for a bit. With conservative investors in town wanting to buy his flagship Fifth Avenue jewelry store, he needs me not only to zip it up, but to look the part of the committed guy. Fine. I can do this for Dad. After all, I’ve got him to thank for the family jewels. So I ask my best friend and business partner to be my fiancée for the next week. Charlotte’s up for it. She has her own reasons for saying yes to wearing this big rock.And pretty soon all this playing pretend in public leads to no pretending whatsoever in the bedroom, because she just can’t fake the kind of toe-curling, window-shattering orgasmic cries she makes as I take her to new heights between the sheets.But I can’t seem to fake that I might be feeling something real for her.What the fuck have I gotten myself into with this…big rock?BIG ROCK is a standalone, dirty romance novel written from the guy’s POV by NYT Bestselling author Lauren Blakely…

    The money doesn’t matter to him, but the company is his life. And then his eccentric mother wills it all to her tiny dog. I’m Vicky, the dog whisperer. (Not really, but that’s what my elderly neighbor always says.) When she dies, she surprises everybody by leaving a corporation worth billions to her dog, Smuckers. With me as his spokesperson. Suddenly I go from running my Etsy store to sitting in an elegant Wall Street boardroom with Smuckers in my lap. And my neighbor’s son, Henry Locke, aka New York’s most eligible bachelor, glaring across the table at me. Rumor has it Henry’s a business genius who’s as talented in the bedroom as he is in the boardroom. Sure, he’s gorgeous. Sex-in-a-seven-thousand dollar suit. But…He’s arrogant and infuriating. He refuses to listen to me when I insist I didn’t con his mother. He thinks he can bully me, buy me off, control me, even seduce me. Henry may have the women of Manhattan eating out of the palm of his hand, but I'm so over entitled rich guys who think they own the world. No way will his wicked smile be charming ME out of my panties. His wicked...devastating...impossible-to-resist smile. Oh well, who needs panties anyway? ****************A sexy enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy standalone!*Formerly entitled Most Eligible Bastard*

    Turns out, kissing Chase Croft — Boston’s most eligible bachelor — may be enough to convince even a girl who’s given up on love to let down her guard one last time...NOT YOU IT’S ME is a full-length, comedic contemporary romance about a girl who doesn’t believe in love… and the man who changes her mind. It is the first installment of the internationally bestselling BOSTON LOVE STORY series and can be read as a complete standalone. Due to sexy-times and strong language, it is intended for readers 17 and up.

    I don’t want to party or try to move on. I just want to stay home and post a new recipe on my blog: Brynn’s Dips and Balls.But my friends aren’t having it. Get out there again, they say. It will be fun, they say. I’m still taking a hard pass. Free designer cocktails, they say. And that’s a game-changer. Too bad my ex shows up with his new arm candy. That’s when I lose my mind. But when my besties dare me to leap on the first single man I see, they don't expect me to actually go through with it.TOMAll I need right now is some peace and quiet while my home renovation TV show is on hiatus. But when a curvy woman in a red wrap dress charges me like she’s a gymnast about to mount my high bar, all I can do is brace myself and catch her. What follows is the hottest experience of my adult life. I want a repeat, but my flying Cinderella disappears immediately afterward. She doesn’t leave a glass slipper, either—just a pair of panties with chocolate bunnies printed on them. But I will find her.

    And he looks good enough to eat, which is just one more reason to stay away from him. But I can’t resist.The sex is incredible (pretty sure we’ve shaken the house right off its foundation), but he can’t fool me—not this time. A degree in marketing and five years in advertising have taught me that “true love” is a fairy tale used to sell lipstick, diamonds, and perfume. It doesn’t exist.He thinks I’m wrong, and he wants to prove it.I think he’s crazy, so I dare him to try.It might be the biggest mistake of my life.

    And the answer is usually some bubbly, lovey dovey tale of being struck in the bum by Cupid’s arrow.My meet cute (well not so meet cute) is slightly different. I was trolling a wealthy neighborhood in Beverly Hills, searching for someone to take me as their bride, you know, to make my arch nemesis jealous who consequently just fired me.He was stomping around the block like some sort of gorgeous ogre, mumbling about a business deal gone wrong and attempting to finagle his way out of it.And that’s when we bumped into each other.There were no sparks.Not even a hint of blossoming love.But next thing I knew, I was scarfing down free chips and guac, listening to this man lay out all of his problems which led to his big ask . . . he wanted me to be his Vivian Ward, you know, from Pretty Woman--minus the frisky behavior.We’re talking about living in a mansion, intimate double dates, and pretending we were head over heels in love . . . and engaged. Can you imagine?The absolute audacity.But people do crazy things when they’re desperate. And I reeked of desperation. So, I struck up a deal.My one big mistake, though . . . big . . . HUGE? I accidentally fell for the incomparable Huxley Cane.

    I knew you’d open this email faster if I tempted you with a glimpse of JT's “PP”. Well, put your pants back on and grab some bubbly because I have much better news to share.I GOT A JOB!As of tomorrow, I’ll be the new executive assistant at Lorena Lefray Designs. I am SO excited, but there’s one itty bitty problem: I won’t be Lorena’s assistant. I’ll be working for her older brother, Julian.I know what you're thinking- "But Jo, what’s the problem?"Google him. Now. He’s the man in the fitted navy suit whose face reminds you that there’s hope yet for this cruel, ugly world. Keep scrolling…Do you see those dimples? Yup. That’s the Julian Lefray I will be reporting to tomorrow morning.Lord, help us all...XO,Jo

    Free spirits with personal boundary issues, excessive quirks, or general squeamishness need not apply. Salary negotiable. Confidentiality required.Workaholic billionaire Sawyer Carlyle may have joked he needed a “buffer” from their marriage-obsessed mom, but he didn’t need a waiting room filled with “candidates” to further distract him. (Thanks, bro.) But when a sexy job applicant shooes his mom and the socialite in tow out of his office, Sawyer sees the genius of the plan. And the woman. In fact, Miss Clover Lee might just get the fastest promotion in history, from buffer to fake fiancé…This “free-spirit” might look like hot sunshine and lickable rainbows, but she negotiates like a pitbull. Before Sawyer knows what hit him, he’s agreed to give up Friday nights for reality tv, his Saturdays for flea markets (why buy junk still baffles him), his Tuesdays and Thursdays for “date nights” (aka panty-losing opportunities if he plays his cards right). And now she wants lavender bath salts and tulips delivered every Monday? Yup, she’s just screwing with him. Good thing she’s got this non-negotiatable six-weeks-and-she’s-gone rule or Sawyer may have just met his match…

    Seriously. The guy is like a potassium addict. Of course, I touched it. If you want to get technical, I actually put it in my mouth. I chewed it up, too... I even swallowed.I know. Bad, bad, girl.Then I saw him, and believe it or not, choking on a guy's banana does not make the best first impression. I should backtrack a little here. Before I ever touched a billionaire’s banana, I got my first real assignment as a business reporter. This wasn’t the same old bottom-of-the-barrel assignment I always got. I wasn’t going to interview a garbage man about his favorite routes or write a piece on how picking up dog poop from people’s yards is the next big thing. Nope. None of the above, thank you very much.This was my big break. My chance to prove I wasn’t a bumbling, clumsy, accident-prone walking disaster. I was infiltrating Galleon Enterprises to follow up on suspicions of corruption. Cue the James Bond music.I could do this. All I had to do was land the position as an intern and nail my interview with Bruce Chamberson.Forget the fact that he looked like somebody carved him out of liquid female desire, then sprinkled on some "makes men question their sexuality" for good measure. I needed to make this work. No accidents. No disasters. No clumsiness. All I needed to do was hold it together for less than an hour.Fast forward to the conference room before the interview, and that's where you would find me with a banana in my hand. A banana that literally had his name on it in big, black sharpie. It was a few seconds later when he walked in and caught me yellow-handed. A few seconds after that was when he hired me. Yeah. I know. It didn't seem like a good sign to me, either.

     But one look at Cade Hill, the sexy new sports director, and uptight reporter Rebecca Fieldstone is daydreaming about other things. Sex in his office… Sex in the on-set kitchen… Sex in the supply closet… She can’t stop thinking about the former NFL quarterback and how perfect he’d look between her sheets—except he’s an arrogant jerk with a huge… ego. He’s the last guy she’d ever have a one-night stand with. Cade Hill draws a thick professional line on office romance—until it comes to the hyper-focused Rebecca. He wants her, and he gets his wish when a chance encounter has them having the hottest sex of their lives. It’s just a hook-up, she says. When can we do it again? he says. With Rebecca determined to keep Cade in the friend zone, it’s going to be an uphill battle for Cade to convince her he’s the last guy she’ll ever want. THE LAST GUY is the first white-hot CONTEMPORARY ROMANTIC COMEDY from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills and Tia Louise. It features Fireball-fueled hookups, Doritos Locos Tacos, attack monkeys, toddlers in tiaras, and one fabulous drag queen. Prepare for frantic clicking (or page flipping!) and smoking-hot sexytimes all the way to the out-of-this-world happily-ever-after.

    Did I mention it's a lot of money? A hell of a lot.I needed to go far away to think it through.As I embarked on an impulsive trip, I hit a detour when I met sexy Carter in the airport lounge. We struck up a heated conversation.Then, he left.I thought I'd never see him again.But fate had other plans.Surprise! He was the pilot of my flight.The bigger surprise was the adventure that followed after the plane landed.Carter was dangerous and always on the move.Even though our connection was magnetic, I knew it was only temporary.He would give me tickets, and I would follow him around the world to exotic places.A bevy of flight attendant exes and rumors about Carter's reputation were never far behind.I didn't know what to believe.But I was addicted. Nothing else mattered anymore. And I was going to get hurt. Because a part of me wanted to be the one to finally ground the playboy pilot.At the very least, he was taking me on a thrilling ride.All good things must come to an end, right?Except our ending was one I didn't see coming.

    Not that I'm interested in him in that way. Attorneys can't go around sleeping with their clients. Not even if he is the most beautiful man I've ever met and so ridiculously smart he makes my nerdy-girl heart sigh.Besides, he has too much on the line to risk taking a chance on the insane chemistry building between us. We both do.I've always followed the rules. Too bad he makes me want to break each and every one of them.All About the D is a romantic comedy and a full-length standalone. Due to adult situations and sexual content, it's recommended for readers over the age of 18.

    I was naked. And we had no chance in hell at ever being platonic. I’ll be the first to admit that I live at extremes. After going ten years locked in what felt like a dysfunctional marriage, I’m now decidedly boy-free. In nearly three years I’ve had no boyfriends, no flings, no dates and no sex. For the sake of my dream career, the sacrifice has been easy. At least it was. Until he came along. Lukas Hendricks. He’s rude, gorgeous, arrogant – a stone-carved wall of muscle and distraction. He’s everything I know to avoid but there’s no avoiding your next-door neighbor. Oh yeah. The man now lives three steps from me and to make matters worse, he crashed into my life while I was relaxed in the tub – mortifying to say the least and it went something like this: I was exposed. He looked. He laughed. And then I locked myself out. In short, Lukas Hendricks was trouble from the start. And me? I was – for the first time in years – about to be screwed.

    Point is, she cost me my two best friends ten years ago. It’s payback time, and I’m going to make her life hell.When I’m not banging her silly and myself stupid.I need to get my head back in business, because getting off is great, but "He was a man who had sex, and lots of it, and in the worst locations, with the woman of his nightmares" isn’t the inscription I want on my tombstone.Even if it’s true.AmbrosiaThere are three things I hate:Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking loudly like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett.Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It’s been ten years since he took my virginity—I’d make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a bratbest joke, and yes, it kills me to admit it—and now he’s not only a billionaire, he’s also my new boss.Turns out our hate is mutual. And this kind of hate is horrifically twisted, filthy, and banging hot.I just might have to hate him forever.MISTER McHOTTIE is 45,000 gloriously hilarious, hot, sexy words that your mother warned you about, complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

     Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, right? That’s what they say, at least. I went into that day hoping I’d get the happiest day of my life. What I got? The worst. I mean, you really can’t get any worse of a day without someone actually dying. So…I may have gotten just a little drunk, and maybe just a tad impetuous… And landed myself in a dive bar somewhere in Alaska, alone, still in my wedding dress, half-wasted and heart-broken. *** Eight brothers, one bar. Sounds like the beginning to a bad joke, yeah? I kinda think so. Wanna hear another joke? A girl walks into a bar, soaking wet and wearing a wedding dress. I knew I shouldn’t have touched her. She was hammered, for one thing, and heartbroken for another. I’ve chased enough tail to know better. That kinda thing only leads to clinginess, and a clingy female is the last thing on this earth I need. I got a bar needs running, and only me to run it—at least until my seven wayward brothers decide to show their asses up… Then this chick walks in, fine as hell, wearing a soaked wedding dress that leaves little enough to the imagination—and I’ve got a hell of an imagination. I knew I shouldn’t have touched her. Not so much as a finger, not even innocently. But I did. ***THE BADD BROTHERS is 8 connected but standalone books in a sexy, funny, alpha male family series. Warning: this book contains mature content, and may also make you laugh out loud!***