








★★★★★ Goodreads Review – “This book was truly amazing, from start to finish, I felt so much, I really felt for the characters and what they endured in life and what they had to do, well to get through life.”
★★★★★ Goodreads Review – “It is a superb Rockstar romance, drama, chemistry, sparks, tension, brotherhood, family, and plenty of emotion.”
★★★★★ Goodreads Review – “Whoa! What a story! Really.. I was blown away!”





★★★★★ 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!”


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Even old dogs deserve a second chance.
Hayes Walker is screwed.
His body is giving out, his family is bleeding him dry, and he never prepared for life after football. When the Dallas Bulldogs offer him a coaching position instead of a returning roster spot, only two things keep him going—staying fit in case another football team picks him up, and spending time with a gray-faced Boxer at the Unlovabulls Dog Rescue.
Olive Russo is a woman who can walk through a kennel in a white pantsuit without getting a spot on her. The always organized PR pro will need her cool control when she’s forced to plan a fundraising gala for the Unlovabulls with the college boyfriend who turned her inside out. A decade ago, Hayes Walker broke her heart and sent Olive into a spiral of bad decisions that she’d rather her clients not know about. Now she is determined to keep the completely lickable Hayes off her to-do list—even if their chemistry is stronger than ever.
Dumping Olive was the worst decision Hayes ever made. When the amazing girl walks back into his life a full-fledged woman, he makes a play for her heart. But when Olive’s secrets are exposed and the NFL knocks on Hayes’s door, they’ll both need to leave their past where it belongs if they’re going to make it work the second time around.

Welcome to the titillating world of the multibillion-dollar global companies and the love affairs of the families that control them.
Harris
I’m the last man standing in The STEELE Quaternity—my brothers and I dubbed such by the media as the most sought-after of the world’s eligible billionaires. One by one, they fell. Suckers.
Me? I hold on to my playboy card like a life preserver in a tsunami, as my fraternal twin sister teases me. Until the day I don’t…
Kat
Those Jacksons think they’re all that. Well, they’re wrong. Dead wrong. And I’ll use whatever and whoever I can to get what I want. Revenge. My red hair, pretty face, and curvy body get ‘em every time. Including that Steele sucker.
Will Kat claim Harris’ playboy card or will her true desire destroy the Jacksons and the Steeles?
Join Harris—her mouse—as he chases his Kat from Aberdeen and the Channel Islands to Thailand and more in their steamy playboy falls for The One billionaire romance.
Their love story is a standalone romance trilogy in the series. Get a glimpse of their dynamism in other books.


“Mr. Steele? Mr. Harris Steele?”
A soft Scottish lilt says my name like I’m Bond. James Bond.
And like a Bond Girl, this one is stacked. Her prim librarian facade of low heels, stockings, a conservative suit with an A-line skirt and a waist-length jacket, pussy bow blouse, and tortoise-shell glasses fails to hide her bodacious body. Thick, glossy red hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun. Talk about a scene at LEVELS London. Hot damn!
As my gaze takes in her long legs, grip-worthy hips, ample tits, and lush mouth, her natural beauty takes my breath away. Emerald green eyes stare back at me, unaffected—dare I say bored—by my heated gaze.
I put on my most dazzling, panty dropping smile and mimic her Scottish accent in my deep baritone timbre.
“Aye, bonnie lass. And who might ye be?”
I think I see a flash of something in the depths of those intriguing emerald orbs. But it’s gone in, well, a flash.
She squares her shoulders and peers down her nose at me.
Her attempt to show confidence only serves to push her delectable tits out.
I smirk.
Her eyes narrow slightly. Then her face blanks again.
Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face,” anyone?
“Kat, Mr. Jackson’s administrative assistant,” she responds.
Oh, fuck me. Why does this one have to work for Lachlan? Damn.
The realization wipes the flirtation from my mind in an instant.
“Mr. Jackson asked me to escort you up to his offices as a call detained him,” Kat continues. “Kindly follow me, Mr. Steele.”
Without waiting for me to acknowledge her statement, Little Kat pivots and stalks towards the executive floor’s elevator.
Okay, Little Kat may be Lachlan’s admin. But the sway of her hips and her round ass call to me like a siren’s song. I follow like she’s the Pied Piper.
The alluring scent of her perfume fills my nostrils as we stand side by side in the elevator. I guesstimate her height at five feet, eight inches in her two-inch heels since I tower over her by five.
Surreptitiously, I ogle her in my periphery. Wild thoughts of yanking the pins from her bun to free that red mane, hiking her skirt up, and hoisting her long leg around my hip as I drive my hungry ten-inch cock balls deep inside of her wet, willing pussy fill my head.
The ping of the elevator doors opening interrupts my sexy fantasy.
As I follow Little Kat, I adjust my burgeoning length. And avoid staring at her sexy strut.
She knocks on Lachlan’s doors and opens them.
“You may enter, Mr. Steele,” she says as she steps back.
“Thank you, Kat,” I say with a nod. The taste of her name sweetens my mouth.
I step inside, and she closes the doors behind me.
My hand drags down my face as I blow out a long breath.
Fuck. Me.
When I open my eyes, Lachlan stares at me with his head cocked as he continues to speak on the telephone. I shake my head and point to his en suite bathroom. He nods but watches me with a furrowed brow.
Once inside, I fully adjust my cock, then stare in the mirror.
“Did that Little Kat crawl under my skin? Fuck… Am I doomed like my brothers by one glance?” I say aloud to my reflection. Then I grin. “Hell nah! Not this playa, baby!”
I chuckle as I shake my head to dislodge that unsavory thought, rinse my face with cool water, and stride from the bathroom.

Charmaine Louise Shelton the Founder, CEO & Author of CharmaineLouise New York, Inc. loves all things classic, elegant, feminine, and of course with an erotic edge! Favorite outfit of choice is a cashmere cardigan, leather pencil skirt, and seamed silk stockings with stiletto heels. Sexy Fantasy Type: sub with a dash of Voyeur. When not writing and designing, Charmaine Louise travels and spends time with her Maltese buddies, ZIGGY and Jynger. She loves to hear from her readers info@charmainelouisebooks.com!

If NFL player Brody Shaw wants to retire from his hometown team, the Dallas Bulldogs, he needs to keep his head down and his nose clean. When the stray dog he rescued bites the pet sitter, it sets off an avalanche of bad publicity, and it’s time to bring in a professional.
Dog-trainer Lily Costello has no intention of training Brody’s dog, CC—football players are bad news, and Brody Shaw is a player if she’s ever met one. Then she sees the brand on CC’s stomach. She came from a puppy mill—the very one Lily is trying to find and shut down.
Brody is all in to help the curvy trainer, and with his clout and connections, Lily finally has a lead. But it’s not long before they attract the wrong kind of attention. When someone makes it clear that they’ll stop at nothing to halt the search, it’ll take everything Brody and Lily have to escape with their lives…



Tricia Lynne is fluent in both sarcasm and cuss words and has little filter between her brain and mouth––a combination that tends to embarrass her husband at corporate functions. A tomboy at heart, she loves hard rock, Irish whiskey, and her Midwestern roots. She’s drawn to strong, flawed heroines, and believes writing isn’t a decision one makes, but a calling one can’t resist.
Tricia lives in Dallas with her husband and dogs, and is a co-founder of the All The Kissing blog as well as a contributor to The Curvy Fashionista blog. Be on the look out for her newest, Unruly Behavior, Book one of The Unlovabulls series in December, 2020. Her debut, Moonlight & Whiskey, is available now.



Deciding to clean up before thinking about what to do for dinner, I grab a quick, hot shower, then wrap a towel around my hips and walk through to my bedroom. I shut the bathroom door behind me, noticing the house is significantly quieter now that there’s not a rock concert being held in my living room.
Moving toward my closet, I pull out some sweats and a tee along with some boxers, and I lay them on the bed. Just as I unwrap the towel and start drying myself off, my bedroom door slams open and Alex bounds in, waving a rolling pin above her head like it’s Thor’s hammer, and she’s ready to attack.
“Whoa!” I splutter
“I’m calling the cops, mother fu—Gio? Oh, hell. Um—”
I stare flabbergasted at an equally shocked Alex, her weapon arm falling down to her side, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. My heart thumps against my ribs as I try to calm my own breathing, all the while trying to process what the hell just happened.
Her gaze drops . . . then drops again, before jerking up to my face.
“Ah hell,” I curse, one hand moving to cover my junk, the other blindly grabbing at anything on my bed to cover myself up with. To her credit—and my relief— Alex turns around to face the wall, giving me privacy.
“I’m so sorry. In my defense, I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know?” Do I have a third nut I don’t know about? Just to be sure, I move my hand out of the way to make sure everything is as it should be down there.
A soft gasp escapes her, and looking up, I catch Alex’s deer-in-the-headlights look in the mirror facing my bed, the mirror giving her a full-frontal view of my uncovered body—again. Her cheeks turn pink before she drops her gaze to the ground.
“Didn’t know what, Alex?” I ask again as I quickly pull on boxers then my sweats, making sure the important bits are covered before I can inadvertently flash my new roommate with the goods a third time.
“That you were home. I didn’t hear you come in, and I figured you would’ve said hi or something when you did. So when my music stopped and I heard a door shut and then footsteps, my brain went to the worst-case scenario and defaulted into self-preservation mode.”
“With a rolling pin? Don’t you have pepper spray or something in your purse?”
“No. I just have a whistle,” she says before she turns around to face me. “Hold up. Why are we discussing weapons of choice to use when I mistakenly think there’s someone in the house?”
“’Cause you thought I was a home invader, and instead of running out of the house and maybe calling the cops, you ran in here all hot air and bluster, armed with a kitchen utensil. I think this warrants a conversation.”
“Do you have to be shirtless for it? It’s kind of distracting, that’s all.” She waves her hands in front of her, gesturing to my chest.
“Not like you haven’t seen me already, roomie,” I reply, unable to fight my smirk.
She snickers as she lifts her eyes to mine. “I’m sorry.”
“For accosting me with a weapon of pastry creation or copping a look in the mirror?” I ask with a questioning brow. Her lips twitch up and I frown. “What?”
“Get it? Copping a look?” she replies with a giggle.
I roll my eyes and fight a snort at her goofy sense of humor.
“I kind of just went into fight-or-flight mode.” Her shoulders go back and she glares at me. “Besides, you could’ve at least told me you were home.”
“I tried, you were too busy being mid-hip shimmy.”
“Oh,” she mumbles, her shoulders visible dropping. “I was cooking our first roomies dinner.”
My head jerks back. “That’s a thing?”
She shrugs. “I wanted to say thank you for letting me move in, and since it was the first time we’ve been home at the same time . . .”
Damn.
“Shit. Okay, well if you’re not traumatized from seeing me naked and dinner’s not ruined because you ran in here like a modern-day Wonder Woman, I’d like that.”
She gifts me a wide, genuine smile, and for a moment, I forget that I’m standing there shirtless in a pair of grey sweats and my new roommate has already seen me naked. Because that smile is dangerous and has trouble written all over it.
Remember she’s your roommate, Gio.
She steps forward and holds out her arm to me. “Truce?”
My brows bunch together as I shake her hand. “For what?”
“We’ve only met face-to-face two times, and you’ve already pulled a gun on me, and I’ve stormed in ready to bash you with a rolling pin. I’d say we’re even now.”
“Truce then,” I agree with a nod and a shake of her hand.
Alex steps back and doesn’t hide the full-body perusal she gives me. “Brilliant. Well, not that I’m complaining—because damn, who knew you had that hiding under there?—but growing up, we always ate supper fully dressed.”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head. “I think I can manage that.”
“Awesome. See ya soon, roomie,” she says before turning around and skipping her way out of the room. Stopping in the doorway, she shoots me an amused smirk. “By the way, shrinkage obviously isn’t an issue. Good for you.”
I’m left standing there with my mouth agape and absolutely no comeback.
And it’s not until Tom Petty starts blaring from the kitchen again that I realize I better get moving.
Life is going to be interesting with Alex Maxwell around. But maybe that’s exactly what I need.





BJ Harvey is the USA Today Bestselling Author of angsty contemporary romance, romantic comedy, and sometimes a little bit of romance suspense. She regards herself as a smut peddler, suspense conjurer, and a funny romance thinker upper. An avid music fan, you will always find her singing some hit song badly and loving every minute of it. She’s a miner’s wife, a mom to two beautiful teenagers, and was born in New Zealand and currently lives in Perth, Australia.



There is no fighting this strange magnetism that draws us together.
I want to be near him.
But what is it about him?
What is it that has me jogging after him through the library, zig-zagging through shelves and around tables and desks until we finally reach a corner of the library, I’m pretty sure only a certain type of people see—it’s a dead-end—a little nook of shelves hidden so deep you would have to purposely go looking in order to find its location.
Koda holds his arms out with a wide grin. “Welcome to my humble abode.”


With a flair for all things creative, International Bestselling Author K E Osborn, is drawn to the written word. Exciting worlds and characters flow through her veins, coming to life on the page as she laughs, cries, and becomes enveloped in the storyline right along with you. She’s entirely at home when writing sassy heroines and alpha males that rise from the ashes of their pasts.
K E Osborn comforts herself with tea and Netflix, after all, who doesn’t love a good binge?
Turn lust into love at www.keosbornauthor.com






