He's a secret to keep at all costs--except one. Marissa is a craps dealer, and in one quick second she never wants to remember, her life turns to crap. Her best friend convinces her the cure for a breakup is a hookup, and reluctantly, she heeds this advice. However, Jack (what was his name again?) is not the average girl's revenge fling. Women throw themselves at Jack, toss their lingerie on the stage, and scream his name. Marissa has no idea of his public identity, and while she doesn't initially throw herself at him, she does go on to toss aside her lingerie and ultimately scream his name. Five minutes after parting, she holds no illusions about seeing him again, but does vow a new outlook on her life and herself. Five months later, Jack astounds her with an invitation to Los Angeles. Although Jack is now a star in her very non rock star fantasies, Marissa is concealing a huge secret that prevents her from accepting. Five years later, the secret comes out, and despite the conflicting emotions each feels toward the other, they must bridge their two worlds together. Jack Who? is a one night stand gone awry, and a couple who work together years later for a fix. 'Jack Who?' is the first in the Silver Strings Series (G String Set). 'Weathering Jack Storm' is second, and 'Snow Storms' is third. The Silver Strings Series will contain trilogies for each string on a guitar, and is kicked off with this G String Set.

    He should be living the high life enjoying the fame and the women but thanks to an out of control, crazy fan that's not how his life is panning out. Now unable to control the nerves and fear that strike every time he has to get on stage Alex is desperate for a solution. A solution that comes in the petite, very attractive form of Grace, a TV Exec who grips Alex's attention from the word go. The only problem is Grace doesn't want anything to do with a renowned rock star like Alex. Its going to take more than his money, fame or knicker dropping smile to win her over!

    It’s impossible to tell one face from the next when I’m up there. The mixture of fog, lights, flashing lasers, my astigmatism, and whatever else they put into the air to keep the crowd happy… It’s all just a mix for a big bunch of blurry fuzzy whatnots. She was not a whatnot. She stood out in her ripped black jeans and that adorable neon yellow thing holding her hair up out of her face. I don’t even know what it’s called, but it was perfect. She was perfect. The bright pink tank top that hugged her in all the right places. Those bright yellow heels that made her back curve in just the right way. Those were definitely factors that caught my eye, but it's not why I can't get her out of my head. Her dark brown eyes and that smile—her smile. That’s it. That smile had me hooked from the second I ran on stage. I even stopped short of my mark and totally threw off the spotlight tracker. Why?Because I was too busy watching her and how she just fell into the rhythm of the music. It’s a good thing Chuck didn’t plan any pyro for tonight, or I might have been screwed.I’m not even entirely sure I sang the right lyrics to the first couple of songs. It was more a series of barely audible grunts, caveman style. Nash probably turned his mic up to help with the background vocals. They’ve all gotten really good at covering my ass over the years. I’m grateful the crowd didn’t seem to notice. All I could think about was trying to figure out a way to find out who she is. I still have nothing. So I’m sitting here like a lost, lonely little puppy just hoping to catch another glimpse. What if she leaves and doesn’t come through the line? I can see both Exit doors from here. I’m watching those two doors like a pitbull watches the gate at a junkyard. Maybe I am a lost, lonely little puppy. No.I am a pitbull puppy. And just like that pitbull, I will jump this table and bulldoze whoever gets in the way if I have to.

    Twenty-seven years old, college educated, up to her eyeballs in debt and yet she’d been relegated to pouring beers at a local bar. She desperately needed an out and was willing to do anything to get back into the corporate world. Well, almost anything. Dan Evans, Rock Star was NOT one of those things. In fact she despised him. Apparently he didn’t get the memo. Dan Evans, bass player of international rock band Power Station had it all. He was rich, travelled the world, played to millions of adoring fans and had no shortage of beautiful women willing to share his bed. He didn’t need a moody redheaded knockout with a superiority complex complicating his life. Or did he?When two people who couldn’t be more opposite cross paths, it’s bound to be explosive; sometimes all you can do is sit back and enjoy the show.

    But nothing was ever that simple. When she envisioned what her life would entail, she freaked and fled to her brother’s apartment in the city. Straight into the arms of his best friend, Jason Marks.  Jason--a hardworking, bar owner--scraped together a life anyone would be proud of. Anyone, but Michaela’s family. Theirs was a match made in desperation. Kindling, just waiting to be set aflame. When the reality of their separate worlds neared, would it be enough to light the blaze? The New Beginnings series: Choices - A Sweet Romance Promises - A Friends to Lovers Romance Dreams - A Sweet Hockey Romance Confessions - A Second Chance Romance

    She aces her classes, excels at her part time job, and carefully avoids trouble--no drinks, no drugs, and especially, no boyfriends.Rock star Miles Webb doesn't do "boyfriend." He skips over intimacy and love in favor of easy distraction--a beautiful woman under him, screaming his name. Meg is drawn to the pain in his gorgeous, tortured voice. But the man she hears on the radio is nothing like the player she meets at a mutual friend's house party. When she walks in on one of his trysts, she's embarrassed enough to die. His merciless teasing leaves her blushed and frustrated, but she's intrigued by his wit, his confidence, his casual offer to give her a night she'll never forget.Neither of them wants a relationship, so they strike up an arrangement: They'll be friends with benefits, nothing more, nothing less. There are only three rules: no secrets, no feelings, no falling in love.Only neither one of them can quite abide by the terms.***Sing Your Heart Out is a full-length, standalone new adult romance in the Sinful Serenade Series.***

    But Sasha is not interested, especially when she finds out the guy in question is a lead singer in a band. She has one rule for her dating life and that is no musicians. She knows relationships with them can only end badly.Jesse is persistent in getting Sasha’s attention, always being charming, genuine and there for her to lean on – emotionally and physically after she breaks her foot. Sasha isn’t sure she can continue to deflect his advances, and isn’t sure she wants to.

    Not for one minute.Since that day I’ve measured all women against her and every one of them has come up short.We're in the same town, on the same block, in the same building, and the gulf between us is just too wide to cross.Until I stop running from trouble long enough to throw her camera off a balcony.She’s a career-killer. A PR disaster.Loving her again is career suicide, and I don’t care.This time, I’m running toward her, even if it ruins me.Star Crossed is a new and improved version of previously published title, Shuttergirl, with a brand new epilogue and previously unpublished, totally swoon-worthy and emotional new scenes.

    A guitar. Really. I don't collect guys like that (don't ask what kind of guys I do collect), but when you spot a blonde, tanned, sculpted man with a gorgeous smile and his thumb poking up and practically begging you to stop – you stop.And I definitely never thought I'd be staring into the bright blue eyes of Trevor Connor, the lead singer for Random Acts of Crazy, an indie rock star I followed like the slobbering fileshare fangirl I am. How he came to be nude and lost six hundred miles from home is quite the tale, but how we fell in love is even more unreal.Because someone like Trevor Connor, headed to Harvard Law next year, isn't supposed to want someone like me, a rural Ohio chick majoring in Boredom at Convenience Store University who is all curves and frizzy blonde hair and manners so unpolished they have sharp edges that make you bleed.But he did.When his best friend, Joe Ross, the bass player for Random Acts of Crazy and a man who makes Calvin Klein models look like Shrek, drove eleven hours through the night to rescue him, though, it got real complicated. It's one thing to like two different guys and be torn.What do you do, though, when maybe – just maybe – you don't have to choose?As my Aunt Josie says sometimes, "It's always complicated."* * * * * *Random Acts of Crazy is a standalone, full-length novel (300+ pages, 85,000 words) featuring Darla Jo(sephine) Jennings, the 22-year-old niece of Josie Mendham from the Her Two Billionaires series. It has, like many New Adult novels, an exploration of sexuality for the three main characters, doesn't shy away from mature content, and Darla has a sailor's mouth.

     He's romance's reigning sex god. When the two accidentally collide at a book conference, sparks - and their luggage - fly. Stacy Sanders had never heard of Gage Blackstone before. If she'd known he was the man everyone called the "king of one-handed reads," she would have run away as fast as her Prada heels would take her. Every woman who'd ever read a romance novel had at least one erotic book penned by him, hidden in her underwear drawer. From the moment Stacy caught Gage's eye, he only thought about messing up her perfect hair and kissing her senseless. Stacy never imagined she'd find herself waking up next to him. But as soon as he finds out what she writes, it will be him running in the other direction. Who would have thought the most novel approach to love would be sweet, spicy, and steaming hot?

    And when you make her scream in bed, tightly gripping the sheets or digging her nails into your back—it is mission complete.Everybody calls me the devil. I think they dubbed me that because they believe I’m heartless. Perhaps they’re right...I don’t know the meaning of the word “love” and I’ve always tried to avoid emotions. I suspect the reason for that is hidden in my past. I really have no idea and don’t want to try to find the answer.The only question I’m still seeking answer to is: Why, since I met her, can’t I think of anything other than the petite French woman with thick lips and the body of a goddess, Emily Delon?