I'm a twenty-two year-old virgin who's had five one-night stands. How's that possible? Easy. I've never gone all the way. I just chicken out and bail. Thank God, I've always selected men I'll never run across again... ...until that sexy-as-sin Matt from last weekend moves in next door... ...then shows up as a new in-house counsel at Sweet Darlings Inc. where I work. Oh...crap. But it was dark in the hotel room. If I put on a boring office outfit and Clark Kent glasses, he won't recognize me... Right?

    You'll be left wanting a Dr. Ryan Andrews of your own.---------- Warning: This story contains mature humor, a lot of cursing, and of course, sexual situations. It’s intended for adult readers who enjoy that kind of thing. ---------- Sexual Surrogate (Definition): A sexual surrogate, sometimes called a surrogate partner, is a member of a sex therapy team consisting of client(s), supervising therapist, and surrogate. Some couples attend sexual surrogacy sessions together, while some people (either single or in a couple) attend them alone. The surrogate engages in education and often intimate physical contact and/or sexual activity with clients to achieve a therapeutic goal. - Wikipedia ---------- Dual POV with no cliffhanger. Stand-alone book 1 in The Off-Limits series.

    Her ex released a sex tape of them and just when she was convinced her current boyfriend was a keeper for standing by her side, he breaks up with her at a friend's wedding. She's planning to drown her sorrows in booze when she meets a sexy stranger as she's leaving the wedding and they end up in Vegas, married. Cash Crawford is offered a dream job working with his brother as a junior talent agent. He'll put his shiny new law degree to good use and make a bunch of money in the process. His first task is simple: Keep Ashlyn Roberts out of trouble and don't sleep with her.Which might be kind of tough, since they definitely consummated their Vegas wedding.Will this one night stand end in the quickie divorce they promised each other? Or will they realize they got lucky in love?

    Nothing was supposed to go wrong. We’d vowed to be on our best behavior after all . . .But it only took one rowdy night with my brothers to flip my world upside down. One unlucky encounter saddled us with a family curse and the promise of doomed relationships. I laughed it off immediately. “Yeah, right,” I thought. “A love curse. Ha!”Boy, was I wrong.Word spreads quickly in a town like mine; rumors about that night soon made us the most eligible yet untouchable bachelors in Port Snow, Maine. As a subject of endless gossip and speculation, I could kiss my dating life goodbye.It would have stayed that way if Ren Winters, the new girl in town, hadn’t crashed into my life. Brave, beautiful, and smart—her vivacious thirst for a fresh start has given me hope that maybe, just maybe, I can have one too.Everyone wishes for that second chance . . . but could this really be mine?

    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…

    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.

    Sexy Stranger is more appealing. And when he speaks—in that British accent—it’s a done deal. Every American woman has a hot British guy fantasy. Well, most do. I haven't taken a poll or anything, but I’m pretty sure it’s a fact.  Except… You know that saying about best-laid plans? Good, because I don’t either, but I assume they go awry.Like my one night stand…

    So when a super hot guy boards the plane and flashes his rock hard abs, I pay attention. When he sits next to me and offers me his nuts, I can’t resist. But when I choke on them and he tells me I need to work on my gag reflex, I realize I might be in over my head. Before I know it we’re in the lavatory and attempting to join the Mile High Club. Let me just say this...anyone who tells you it’s easy to get it on at 37,000 feet isn’t telling you the truth. After the flight attendant busts us for getting frisky in the air, the only thing that can ease my total and complete mortification is the simple fact that I am never going to see him again. Hours later, I can’t help but wonder if fate will ever allow me to become a new version of myself. Because Fate, she’s a fickle bitch. Case in point...my seatmate is my new next-door neighbor. Even with the whole fate thing we have going on, we are so not meant to be together. He’s all cool and sexy in that make love not war kind of way. Guys like him are dangerous. With that bring-you-to-your-knees body, that handsome-as-hell face, and that dirty, dirty mouth, I guarantee one glance from him wets every girl's bikini bottoms. And then there’s me…the quirky girl looking to find herself in California. All I want to do is learn to let loose. Say words like peace and groovy. Bury my toes in the sand. Who knows, maybe even have sex on the beach. Unable to get him out of my head, I entertain the thought of being more than just friends. I know the idea is absurd. And yet, I go with it. You see Camden Waters gets me. Really gets me. Like no other guy has before.On this 7-mile stretch of paradise, I decide to keep things simple and just have fun...that is until fate decides to screw with me, again. Can two people hell-bent on finding themselves realize the search should have ended the day they met? Find out in No Pants Required—a sexy, funny, romantic stand-alone, that will have you hurrying to grab your bathing suit and rushing to the beach to check out every lifeguard on duty. ***Want more of the men of Laguna? You can find Keen in Bedwrecker and Brooklyn in Hollywood Prince. These books can be read as stand-alones or as a series.

    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.

    Yeah, that Barrett Callahan—the one the press dubbed “Bare” after those naked sexting pictures surfaced. At twenty-five, I was armed with an MBA from Harvard, an executive position at my father’s Fortune 500 company, a penthouse, and a different piece of delectable eye candy in my bed every weekend. I had a life most men dreamed of. But then my father decided to run for president, and my playboy lifestyle became a liability to his campaign that was built on family values. My “makeover” comes in the form of a fake fiancée who I don't even get to choose--one who is an uptight, choirgirl acting priss but also sexy-as-hell. AddisonMy latest relationship had gone down in flames, and I was drowning in a sea of student loans when in true Godfather status, James Callahan made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Seven figures for seven months on the campaign trail pretending to be the adoring fiancée of his son, Barrett. As soon as he won the election, our engagement would be dissolved amicably for the press, I was free to ride off into the sunset a million dollars richer, and because of the NDA, no one would be the wiser. Sure, I’d never met the guy, but I’d been a theater nerd in high school. I could pull off any role from Lady Macbeth to Maria Von Trapp. But that was before I met my fake fiancé—the infuriating, self-absorbed, egotistical, drop-dead-sexy King of the Manwhores. The race will be a fight to the death finish, and that’s not even the actual campaign.

    Sometimes, you need a Magnificent Bastard.Face it, ladies: love sucks and then you cry...while your ex rides off into the sunset banging your best friend. But why let a break-up end in tears when it can end with sweet revenge? Enter Magnificent Bastard Consulting and me, chief executive bastard. I've got it all--looks, brains, a heart of gold, and the killer instinct guaran-damn-teed to make your ex regret the day he said goodbye.With the help of my virtual assistant, I've built an empire giving broken-hearted women the vengeance they deserve, while keeping myself far from the front lines of the heart. Life is a bowl of cherries, until my virtual assistant shows upon my real doorstep for the first time, begging for a Magnificent Bastard intervention of her own.  Damn... She's a bona fide sex kitten. I pride myself on being a true pro, but pretending to be her lover soon leads to giving it to her good, hard, fast, and up against the wall. And somewhere between getting balls deep in my sweet and sexy assistant and watching her ex beg for a second chance, I break every last one of my damn rules--professional and personal.So what's my next move? Fight for the girl who makes me want to get up on a white horse and ride to her rescue, or stay a Magnificent Bastard to the end? Warning: MAGNIFICENT BASTARD is a stand-alone erotic romance told from the hero's point of view. No cliffhanger. Lots of dirty talk. A Sexy Flirty Dirty Standalone Romance

    But when her brother gets into trouble, Dillion reluctantly agrees to return home to take her place at the family business.Being back in Pearl Lake after all these years feels familiar, but also brings a few surprises. She’s quick to notice that someone new has shown up at the cottage next door. Dillion gets more than an eyeful when she goes to check out the newcomer and meets Donovan “Van” Firestone—her beloved neighbor’s grandson—in all his unclothed glory.Having gotten off to a rocky start, it’s not long before they begin bickering with each other all over town. All that back and forth inevitably sparks an undeniable attraction. But Dillion’s family has issues, Van’s family resents him, and neither Dillion nor Van feels truly at ease in the small town. For these Pearl Lake exiles, home isn’t just where the heart is—it’s where things get complicated.

     I keep my two worlds separate. At work, I’m King of Wall Street. The heaviest hitters in Manhattan come to me to make money. They do whatever I say because I’m always right. I’m shrewd. Exacting. Some say ruthless. At home, I’m a single dad trying to keep his fourteen year old daughter a kid for as long as possible. If my daughter does what I say, somewhere there’s a snowball surviving in hell. And nothing I say is ever right. When Harper Jayne starts as a junior researcher at my firm, the barriers between my worlds begin to dissolve. She’s the most infuriating woman I’ve ever worked with. I don’t like the way she bends over the photocopier—it makes my mouth water. I hate the way she’s so eager to do a good job—it makes my dick twitch. And I can’t stand the way she wears her hair up exposing her long neck. It makes me want to strip her naked, bend her over my desk and trail my tongue all over her body. If my two worlds are going to collide, Harper Jayne will have to learn that I don't just rule the boardroom. I’m in charge of the bedroom, too. The King of Wall Street is a sexy, stand alone, contemporary romance.

    She's a (struggling) sports journalist looking for her big break. Charlie Denton has been handed the most impossible assignment from her stick-in-the-mud boss: get an exclusive interview with the NHL's golden boy, Duke Harrison. The catch? She's got eight days or she’ll be demoted. Fired. Kicked to the curb - No way is she letting her future rest on the broad shoulders of a goalie who is at least three seasons past his prime. She has eight days to convince Duke that the loyal fans of The Cambridge Tribune (annual circulation: 1,000) are dying to know about his life, on and off the ice. Eight days to stand toe to toe with a man who is pure sex on a stick. Eight days to remember that every mind-blowing kiss is nothing but a power play. What could go wrong?

    And the more I drank, the more I wanted to do something reckless to celebrate.By reckless, I mean the sexy and alluring man dressed in a business suit standing near the bar. You know his type—tall, dark, handsome. I was sure he was out of my league, but I’d had just enough alcohol that things like that no longer seemed to matter. I’m not fat, mind you, but you can tell I like french fries, so there’s that.He took me home, and I enjoyed the hottest birthday sex of my life. Well, until it came to a screeching and rather unwelcome halt.There’s nothing quite like being interrupted mid-ride with a little voice asking, “What are you doing to my daddy?”Just kill me now . . . or so I thought.Come to find out, the man I rode like a bull at the rodeo is my new landlord.