Book 1 – Going Down
Marion MacAlister wants to nail her audition, not get nailed. Truly. Honestly. All right…maybe she does want to get nailed, but that’s just because her hottie landlord and local diner owner Mack Ryan is confusing her with his mouth.
Can friends become lovers? Especially friends who might not even be friends in the first place?
Book 2 – Man Candy
Raine Harper is in love with Wade Gates. But Wade likes women who are model thin, and Raine is model thin plus a whole lot of pounds. Desperate to make him love her, she trains just a little too hard and passes out in the arms of superstar movie star Dirk Adams. Dirk thinks Raine’s junk in the trunk is perfect and proposes to make Wade jealous by becoming her pretend boyfriend. Pretend soon seems very real. Is Dirk a great actor, or is something really developing between Raine and the movie star?
Book 3 – Hot Wired
Marie Foster is not a cheater. Nevertheless, she gets thrown out of college for doing just that. With her life turned upside down, she decides to try new things. You know…Get drunk in a bar. Pick up a guy. Marry a stranger, who just happens to be a hot billionaire.
Book 4 – Just Sacked
Layla has been working at her family’s bar since she was five years old. But it’s more than a bar. It’s home. Now with her family gone and debts piling up, her bar is repossessed and taken over by local businessman Hank Taylor. Hank offers Layla a deal: If she can win a drinking contest, she can have the bar back. Layla’s never lost a drinking contest in her life, but after an evening swigging back whiskey, she and Hank wake up together, naked and handcuffed in Mexico. Getting home offers dangerous adventure, and it’s a toss up whether Hank and Layla will get back before they kill each other or fall in love.
Book 5 – Wicked Ride
Fiona Jones has never killed anyone, but there’s a first for everything. Still, maybe she shouldn’t have hired Ronin—a sexy killer with a wicked motorcycle—who’s giving her more than her share of attention.
His eyes are dark and bore through me. I wonder if he’s playing chicken with his eyes. Well, if he is, he wins, because I can’t keep his gaze. It makes my throat close and my uterus spasm. I stare at his nose, instead. It’s perfectly proportioned and as straight as a razor, but it doesn’t make my airways close.