I had one job.Show up and rock his world.So, I did just that.I left him panting and begging for more.Mission complete.The next day, however, I’m told he was the wrong guy.If that’s the case, why did it feel so right?I had one job, and I blew it...literally.

    Probably not in retrospect. In my defense I had just moved back into my grandparent’s house, I’d lost my dream job, and a guy on Tinder had stood me up. It was like life had suddenly stamped ‘LOSER’ on my forehead. So when the guy behind the bar started giving me THE look…you know, the one that promised I’d be screaming his name into the wee hours of the morning? When that guy also has the perfect amount of scruff on his chiseled chin, biceps bulging out of his t-shirt, and a cocky grin you knew he’d earned in the sack…when he gives you that look, you don’t bother to figure out what your six degrees of separation are. You jump on that horse and ride it! Pun fully and completely intended. And accurate by the way. I fully admit to feeling sorry for myself and acting impulsively, but by the time I’d figured out WHO the bartender was, I was already falling for him.

    I don’t even like him.I just want him.Eli Loveless was my nemesis from the first day of kindergarten until we graduated high school. Everything I did, he had to do better - and vice versa. The day he left town was the best day of my life.Ten years later, the day he came back was the worst.Now he’s my co-worker.Grown-up Eli Loveless is sexy as sin. He’s hotter than asphalt in the summer. The irritating kid I once knew is gone, and he’s been replaced by a man with green eyes, perfect abs, and a cocky smile.It’s bad that I want him.It’s worse that he wants me back.There are looks. There are smirks. There are smiles that make my panties burst into flame.And then there’s a shared kiss that leads to the hottest night of my life.This is no office romance. This is a five-alarm fire. What’s a girl to do when the man I can’t stand is the one I can’t stop lusting after?Enter into a friends-with-benefits agreement, of course. No dates. No relationship. Just blisteringly hot sex, because if there’s one person I could never fall for, it’s Eli....right?

    One genius idea. Zero interest in a relationship. The plan is simple: a brand new, hot, preferably funny, definitely single male will fill one of those seats for every Bears game at Soldier Field. And I’ll fill the other. I can’t think of a better way to use the season passes I’d bought for my ex-husband. I am a woman of plans, and this one’s foolproof. Until Zach Bowen offers to be my practice round. He’s infuriating. Presumptuous and overbearing. And absolutely, undeniably gorgeous. Any woman with a heartbeat would be attracted to him, and mine picks up speed every time he speaks. But as I said, I’m a woman of plans — and I’m not backing down on this one. One night. One game. And then, his time’s up. He can try to change the rules, but here’s the truth: he can’t win if he’s playing the wrong game. The Wrong Game is a stand-alone, angsty, enemies-to-lovers sports romance.

    So it’s only natural that Luna would convince her brother and his husband-to-be to compete on The Wedding Game, a “do-it-yourself” TV show, for the title of Top DIY Wedding Expert.As a jaded divorce lawyer, Alec Baxter scoffs at weddings and romance. But when his recently engaged brother begs him to participate in The Wedding Game, Alec grudgingly picks up a glue gun and prepares for some family bonding.Both fierce competitors, Luna and Alec clash on national TV as harsh words and glitter fly with abandon. But as they bicker over color swatches and mood boards, they find themselves fighting something else: their growing mutual attraction. While Luna is torn between family loyalty and her own feelings, Alec wonders if he might have been wrong about love and marriage all along…

    I’m an influencer. I run a popular blog where I give all kinds of dating tips, and girls all over the world thank me for helping them with their love lives.I wish I could follow my own advice because my love life is totally dead. I just drunk texted my ex-boyfriend… except, I didn’t. That text ended up going to someone else.Oops.This new relationship is almost picture-perfect, just like my online life. I guess I give good… text.He doesn’t have to put up with my colorful personality — as my hot next-door neighbor describes me. Or my messy schedule.This long-distance relationship is the best thing that’s happened to me and I plan to keep it that way.Until we agree to meet up, and I’m freaking out.When he meets the real me, will he hate me forever?Or will we be one day telling our grandkids about that wrong text, right love?***Wrong Text, Right Love is a cute rom-com of two secret lovers who prepare to risk it all for love. Claudia Burgoa brings the flirty fun in this cozy novel of risking it all for romance.This is a standalone story with an HEA.

    Now’s my shot to fight for real, step out from my billionaire father’s shadow and be my own man. This summer’s all about going after my goal of becoming a pro MMA fighter. The problem is the girl I want to f*ck. She’s driving me crazy with her little yoga outfits, her creamy skin, luscious curves and wide-eyed innocence. Normally, I’d hit it and quit it, get her out of my system and focus. But she’s my goddamn stepsister. And she hates me. This summer we’re supposed to spend eight weeks together living under the same roof. I need to taste her. I won’t rest until she’s writhing beneath me, begging me to let her come. I’m a man who gets what he wants, and what I want now is Jewel. Jewel I want him so bad it hurts. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never had a problem keeping my distance from bad boys. The more muscles, tats and testosterone, the more I ran the other way. I learned my lesson, growing up with a trainwreck of a mother. Until now. Tuck makes my panties melt. He keeps me up at night, twisting in the sheets, obsessed with fantasies while I touch myself. But he’s my stepbrother. And he’s an alpha, dominant asshole. We’re sharing a house and he’s walking around shirtless, every inch of him ripped with hard muscle, sweaty after his brutal workouts. I don’t think I can hold out much longer. I’ve always been the good girl, but he makes me want to be bad. ***Off Limits is a standalone stepbrother romance novel with a HEA (85,000 words).

     I know the feeling well. I'm the top draft prospect for the NFL, voted All-American last year, and a God at the University of Oregon. I didn't get here by fucking around or chasing fantasies—and I'll never forget where I came from. A guy like me only gets one chance to get out, to make something of himself. Passion. I thought football was my passion. But Teagan Fletcher, she's my obsession. My childhood friend is now a woman with curves for days and hair like fire. But she also hates me—and I don't blame her. I want her. But I can't have her. I need her. But I don't know how to let go. One way or another, I'll have it all: football … and Fletcher. ***KICKED is a standalone new adult sports romance with a happy ending and no cliffhanger. To celebrate the release of this bad boy, there are two free bonus books in the back: STEPBROTHER INKED and RAW AND DIRTY, both from C.M.'s pen name, Violet Blaze. All three are full-length novels, full of bad boys and tattoos, and loaded with hot, hot, hotness. Enjoy! EXCERPT FROM "KICKED": “What are we doing?” Teagan asked as I forced her to jog after me towards the tunnel. “Where are we going?” Her voice was breathy and patchy, and she panted as she ran after me, but she kept going, following me into the pitch blackness and down, down, down. At the halfway mark, I stopped, turned, shoved her back into the wall. “Tyce,” Teagan said, her voice high and reedy, like she was about to come in her panties just from looking at me. I reached up and tore my helmet from my head, tossing it aside and letting it bounce along the pavement beneath our feet. I was panting so goddamn hard in that moment, sucking in breath after anxious breath as my eyes flicked over her face, down her throat, across the full swell of her chest. I stepped forward and cupped the back of her head with a golden glove, leaned down and captured her mouth with mine. I kissed her hard and fast, frantic with time and need and desire. Less than five minutes. I bruised Teagan's mouth with my own, slid our tongues together, made her dizzy when I pulled back and looked her straight in the face. “We have five minutes,” I said and then we were working together to shove her pants down one leg, over her sneakers. Mine were next, pushed down halfway off my a**, my c*** springing free from my cup. I lifted Teagan up against that stone wall, slammed her back into the cool cement and let her curl her fingers in my sweaty hair. It was stuck to my forehead, probably a hot mess, but she looked at me like I was a god. I felt like a god there in that tunnel in the dark with thousands of fans screaming and pounding the pavement above our heads. In an instant, my coach or a security guard or one of the boys, they could come down here and find us screwing. I didn't care. Seriously. I didn't give a s***.

    Being a romance novelist comes with its perks but when Ethan Rochester enters my life and interrupts my solo writing retreat, my world turns upside down.I write about guys like him for a living—sexy and charming, yet reluctant to get into a serious relationship. His body’s the ultimate temptation, but his condescending personality makes him a notorious heartbreaker.When we’re forced to be neighbors, he makes me forget my rules, and soon my upcoming deadline isn’t the only thing I’m dreading.*Can be read as a complete stand-alone! Formally titled Falling for the Bad Boy. Content has not changed.*

    Easy. Wear designer clothing and sip champagne? Don’t mind if I do. Flirting with Grant? It’s so delicious I should be paying him. Nothing can go wrong as long as I can keep my hands off of him. But that’s the hard part. And I do mean hard. Because Grant is sexy. And bossy. And surprisingly sweet, a real rarity in his pretentious family. Oops. I’m not as good at faking it as I thought. Or maybe they call this method acting. Because it’s getting harder to figure out where my character ends and I begin… It just might be the role of a lifetime. Weekend Wife is a standalone romantic comedy with a sexy billionaire, a sassy heroine, and a Happily Ever After.

    A UC Santa Barbara professor, she’s a female-serial-killer expert who’s quick with a deflection joke and terrible at getting personal. And she, just like her four best guy friends and fellow professors, is perma-single.So when a routine university function turns into a black tie gala, Mille and her circle make a pact that they’ll join an online dating service to find plus-ones for the event. There’s only one hitch: after making the pact, Millie and one of the guys, Reid Campbell, secretly spend the sexiest half-night of their lives together, but mutually decide the friendship would be better off strictly platonic.But online dating isn’t for the faint of heart. While the guys are inundated with quality matches and potential dates, Millie’s first profile attempt garners nothing but dick pics and creepers. Enter “Catherine”—Millie’s fictional profile persona, in whose make-believe shoes she can be more vulnerable than she’s ever been in person. Soon “Catherine” and Reid strike up a digital pen-pal-ship...but Millie can’t resist temptation in real life, either. Soon, Millie will have to face her worst fear—intimacy—or risk losing her best friend, forever.

    He’s also opening a bar with his buddies right below my apartment. Goodbye, peace and quiet, hello sleepless nights fantasizing about my hot new landlord… But when my stuffy workplace makes it clear I need a plus-one for our events, I have the perfect way to even the score. Emerson is A+ arm-candy… as long as I can resist taking a bite. Our arrangement is supposed to be just for show, but Emerson is like that fifth shot of tequila: tempting, intoxicating, and liable to leave me flat on my back with my panties around my ankles, begging for more. Maybe I should stay for just one more round…

    Just another twenty-something girl, living the dream. That’s what I tell myself every morning. That I’m successful, self-aware, and well-balanced. It's just a tiny fib. I would be all of those things, if I had friends who didn’t work with me at the bank. And if I made it to pilates more than once a quarter. And if watermelon slushies weren't the main source of nutrients in my diet. It wouldn’t hurt if I’d had sex in the last year, either. (My best friend insists Jorge the Nightstand Boyfriend doesn’t count.)But when you know where you're going, you don’t need to enjoy the ride. Right?Even if some teeny part of me did want to fool around, Max Donovan would be the last guy I’d call. Sure, he made the indie video game that broke the internet. And yeah, his eyebrow piercing’s sexy, in a ‘what-are-you-in-a-band?’ kind of way. And fighting with him gets me going faster than Jorge on bezerker mode…He’s still colder than a cactus and twice as prickly. And I’m not talking about his face, because the guy’s barely old enough to shave. It’d really be best if we just ignored each other. Which is a problem, because Max Donovan is my new biggest client.So what happens when the girl who lives to work meets the guy who was born to play?Game on.

    Maybe it’s the day-to-day grind. Maybe it’s that client who never knows what they want, or the guy who always cooks fish in the microwave.But not me. I love every corner of the Longbourne Flower Shop, every flower, every petal, every stem. I love the greenhouse, and I love Mrs. Bennet, my boss. I love creating, and I love being a florist. I don’t hate anything at all.Except for Luke Bennet.The Bennet brothers have come home to help their mom save the flower shop, and Luke is at the helm. His smile tells a tale of lust, loose and easy. He moves with the grace of a predator, feral and wild. A thing unbridled, without rules or constraint. When he comes home to save Longbourne, I almost can’t be mad at him. Almost.He doesn’t remember that night I’ll never forget. That kiss, touched with whiskey and fire. It branded me like a red-hot iron. But it meant nothing to him.Everyone hates part of their job, and I hate Luke Bennet.Because if I don’t, I’ll fall in love with him.

    But living in her own world has long been preferable to dealing with the disappointments of real life. So when Maybell inherits a charming house in the Smokies from her Great-Aunt Violet, she seizes the opportunity to make a fresh start.Yet when she arrives, it seems her troubles have only just begun. Not only is the house falling apart around her, but she isn't the only inheritor: she has to share everything with Wesley Koehler, the groundskeeper who's as grouchy as he is gorgeous—and it turns out he has very different vision for the property's future.Convincing the taciturn Wesley to stop avoiding her and compromise is a task more formidable than the other dying wishes Great-Aunt Violet left behind. But when Maybell uncovers something unexpectedly sweet beneath Wesley's scowls, and as the two slowly begin to let their guard down, they might learn that sometimes the smallest steps outside one's comfort zone can lead to the greatest rewards.