Kathleen Witte is a down-to-earth girl. She has to be, with the family ranch on the verge of success. After seven months of keeping it all together by swearing off men, however, Kathleen needs a bit of fun in the sun. Waking up with a husband she can’t remember isn’t how she planned to blow off steam.
The last thing Jackson Taylor wants in his life is a down-to-earth girl. He has four weeks of freedom in which to find his birth mother. He’s done well avoiding commitment until now, so when he wakes up on a Mexican beach with Kathleen his first reaction is curiosity. When he spies the matching wedding rings on their left hands curiosity turns to concern.
Neither Jackson nor Kathleen want to stay married, but when her family shows up, they have no choice. Once back in Texas, however, can they keep this all-business marriage from turning into an all-consuming love?
The Saint’s Devilish Deal is a story of second chances – Saint and Esme have a history that goes back to their childhoods. Both have some internal demons to overcome… Here’s the blurb:
A billionaire surfer, a down on her luck hotelier…One hot summer fling!
Esmerelda Quinn has been looking for a place to belong since her parents were killed in a car crash when she was young. The closest thing to home has always been Aunt Constance’s villa in Puerto Vallarta, so after a string of dead-end hotellier jobs, she’s coming home to run the villa.
Santiago Cruz has called the villa home for as long as he can remember. In between surfing events, Constance has always had a room for him. Color him surprised when Constance decides to retire – and leaves a joint interest in the villa to both Santiago and Esme.
Esme isn’t thrilled to share ownership of the villa with the youngest Cruz brother – especially when she learns Santiago’s brother has been after the villa for years. But Santiago has grown up while she’s been away at school and soon she finds herself falling for the rich boy down the hall.
“Face it, you’re a nice guy, Mason Drury.” Casey looked up through her lashes, a flirting light to her eyes. She reached out her hand, grasping Mason’s forearm, then squeezing lightly. Mason’s jeans tightened with the simple contact. “Tilly looks like she could hold her own, and you know with five kids she has to at least like sex. You could have your own private geisha girl. Even if she is blond.”
And then Mason knew. He wanted to know Casey Cash. Not get the dirt on Cassandra Cash, Miss Romance. He wanted to know what her favorite food was, her favorite place in New York. To feel her lips on his again. To know whether she liked breakfast or brunch.
“I’ve always been partial to brunettes,” he said, straightening from the railing. He reached a hand around Casey’s wrist, pulled her body hard against his. “Brunettes with blue eyes that sparkle in starlight.” His chest brushed against hers and he felt her stomach muscles tighten through the thin cotton of her shirt.
Okay, the line was corny, and the stars weren’t out yet, but with the darkening sky lit only by a few tiki lights, he could easily imagine it.
Casey expelled a short breath, the smile never leaving her face. “Blue eyes and brown hair, huh?” Her tongue sneaked out of her mouth and slid across her full lips. “I guess it’s a good thing Tilly and Wally found one another. You just keep surprising me.”
“That’s the plan,” he said, pulling her more fully into his arms.
She fitted her arms around his neck and a hint of jasmine wafted in the air. Her perfume? Shampoo? He didn’t know, but he sure as hell wanted to find out.
Oh, but it wasn’t the plan. This was so wrong. He should pull back. Go with the original plan. Have a drink, get the interview over with and get on with getting to know Casey.
The wrong guy might be just right for her.
When her celebrity boyfriend of three years dumps her and claims he’s now gay, unlucky-in-love author Casey Cash decides to get out of New York. A cruise seems like the perfect escape: everyone onboard will be locked away from television, newspapers and internet gossip pages, allowing her some much needed relaxation. There’s only one problem: her oh-so-helpful agent has hired a male escort for her…and a big NYC paper has sent a pesky reporter on-board, vowing to get the dirt. Mason Drury doesn’t want to write an expose on Casey, but he’s in a bind. After a source flipped on him, he’s persona non grata at his newspaper. Celebrity trash or not, this story will put him back on top. Too bad he finds himself breaking the first rule of reporting by getting attached to his subject and letting bias influence his story. Casey’s much more interested in sexy Mason than the annoying escort who’s bunking in her room. Mason might even have romantic potential if she can shake her well-meaning-but nosey-fans. Oh, and that reporter. She’s got to avoid him at all costs…
CONTENT WARNING: A smattering of sass, sex and a heaping happily ever after. A Lyrical Press Contemporary Romance
Trick followed and was barely inside the trailer when Monica launched herself into his arms.
“Did you miss me?” She whispered the words against his mouth, nibbled his lower lip. Trick knew it was a rhetorical question. He knew Monica would go running into the Texas afternoon if he answered with one hundred percent honesty. So for the first time today he kept his big mouth shut—figuratively speaking—and fell into the moment.
Her mouth was hot on his, demanding. Mad at her or not for risking her life in that bull pen, he couldn’t resist her. Trick dug his hands into her hair, breaking the elastic at her nape in the process. Monica wrapped one leg around his, pushing herself against him, as if their bodies might become one hot, writhing unit. Trick pushed his tongue between her lips, wanting to taste more of her.
Their teeth clicked together and Monica chuckled. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Trick pushed her against the side of the trailer. “Really? Because you didn’t even want a handshake ten seconds ago,” he said between kisses. He smelled coconut in her hair, bananas on her skin, and despite the overpowering aroma of cooped-up horse, the trailer was suddenly a tropical paradise.
“You know the rules.” She panted and kissed her way along his jawline. He lifted her up by the hips until her legs were wrapped around his waist.
Yeah, he knew the rules. No deep feelings, no firm commitments, no family involvement. They drove into Austin or San Antonio for dates, she stayed over at his place, and he was never invited to the Diamond for more than vet checks. On the occasional long weekend or during a break from the rodeo, he’d go to her place in Austin. Easy.
Up until two weeks ago, it had been enough. Then he asked her to take a long weekend and she balked. Pride made him throw down the ultimatum that she stay. After seeing her in the ring with the bull, easy wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more. He wanted to take her to dinner in town. Wanted to wake up with her wild hair spread over his pillows every morning. Wanted to come home to her every night.
“This isn’t exactly the safest place in the world for hot, sweaty sex.”
Kathleen’s voice echoed in her head. Cowgirl up.
“Shut up.” But Vanessa listened to the voice, got out of the Porsche and nearly toppled over as her four-inch heels sank into the dirt shoulder. Vanessa held on to the top of the car as she made her way to the trunk and began pawing through the contents, looking for something appropriate to wear. A single Nike, buried under a pile of silk blouses and a jog bra gave her hope. She kept going, found a wrinkled green tee, black leggings and a pair of athletic socks in another bag. She really had to figure out how to pack before going back to San Antonio. In a third bag she found the other Nike. At least she’d look semi-put together.
Vanessa looked in either direction, saw no dust trail or mid-day stars signaling sunlight bouncing off a windshield and whipped off the pants and blouse. She pulled the tee on first – no need to get caught on the side of the road in her bra and panties – and then sat on the hood to take off the McQueens. She jumped when her bare feet hit rough pavement and hurried to pull socks over her feet. A few seconds later, fully dressed, she was ready for the walk back to town.
In the distance sunlight glinted off a windshield and a few minutes later a large, black truck with the Witte brand emblazoned on the side pulled to a stop, dwarfing her sports car. Vanessa sighed. Just her luck she’d be found helpless on the side of the road by Mat.
She pasted a smile on her face, and wished for her armor back. She could deal with Mat in heels and silk. In leggings and Nikes? Coal-black eyes that seemed to see right through her looked from Vanessa to the flat as a pancake tire and he smiled. Mat ran one hand through his hair and put on his cowboy hat.
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Lily MacIntyre’s life is offtrack, and she knows exactly how to right it: shed her America’s sweetheart image in a big way. Getting down and dirty in a limo with rocker Nate Lansford seems like the perfect solution. Plus, she’s had a mad crush on him practically since birth. The only problem? Nate is her brother’s best friend…and he doesn’t see her as anything other than a surrogate little sister.
“Don’t.” Her words were a whisper, but still loud in the back of the limo.
Finally she looked at him, her deep brown eyes molten in the darkness. “Don’t be my brother’s best friend tonight. Don’t be my cheerleader. Just…” Her hand trembled against his on the cool leather seat. “I’m not America’s favorite sixteen-year-old any longer. I don’t need to pretend I’m still sixteen, and the magazines are already burning me at Trey’s sacrificial altar, so why not send that old image up in flames all the way?”
She leaned across the seat, brushed her sweet lips across his cheek, and Nate nearly lost it. He was holding on by a thread. This was Lily.
The same girl he’d grown up with. The Lily who’d brought him home after school because she noticed he hadn’t eaten lunch for three days. The Lily who cheered for him at the high school talent show. The Lily who couldn’t really want him, because if she did…he would ruin her.
Nate groaned when her lips brushed against his. A bit of her hair had come loose from the sleek updo and brushed against his neck, fanning that trickle of flame even hotter.
Her hand traced the line of his jaw, and Nate’s resistance burned to the ground. He pushed her back into the corner and dug his hands into her hair. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
She panted. “I know exactly what I want, Nate Lansford, and what I want is you.”
Nate lowered his lips to hers, tasting the sweetness of her lips for the first time. Her tongue tangled with his, pushing him further, asking him for more. And Nate gave it.
When Lily arched her back, Nate reached for her breast, feeling her nipple pucker beneath the fine silk of her dress. She moaned, a tiny sound, but it was enough to pull him back into the present.
What was he doing? This was Lily. The girl who made him want to be more than the kid from the wrong side of Malibu’s tracks. His friend.
He couldn’t mess that up.
Nate pushed away from her, fisting his hands in his hair as he tried to put a few more inches between them. The back of the limo was too tight. He was too close to Lily. He needed air. Space.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Not your feel good erotic romance. Conceiving Evil is dark and chilling. BDSM and Horror themes.
Like everyone else after the economic crash, Abby Torrance was struggling financially. But then Dorian Lincoln, a political and business icon, sweeps her off her feet and into a life of promise. He’s a man who has enough power to change the world for the better, a man who can give hope to the masses, a man who can give Abby a baby.
But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions and Abby is having strange dreams that seem both a warning and a prophesy. How can she give the evil undertones of her dreams any notice when she’s busy focusing on conceiving?
The Heart Wants what the Heart Wants
We all want what we can’t have … Emma Bennett wants an African American man. In Louisville, Kentucky right after the Civil War this is a scandalous and dangerous idea. Dare she go after the man who makes her swoon?
In my historical romance a black man and a white woman cross the line and have a night of fiery passion. But just how far across the line should they take it?
Life without love is painful, but in 1865 forbidden fruit can be deadly. When a wealthy widow decides to enjoy her new-found freedom, she puts more than her reputation on the line. An unwanted suitor means to have her, or no one will. From sizzling sex to life-threatening danger, the intrigue will keep you turning the pages of Midnight Caller, Haley Whitehall’s sizzling new romance.
When Emma Bennett’s husband dies in a carriage accident in 1865, she is released from her loveless, controlling marriage. Now she has a chance to find happiness and raise a family. But before she begins courting again she wants to experience her freedom. At the advice of the leading socialite in town, she takes a black lover to fulfill her sexual needs. His raw, masculine power awakens feelings she didn’t know existed. After the first touch she craves more.
Frederick works as a roustabout by day and moonlights as a prostitute. He knows better than to fall in love with his white client, but Emma enchants him the first time he calls on her. To keep them both safe, he works hard to put up barriers. Unfortunately, he can’t protect Emma from the slimy Mr. Hawthorne, who wants her as his bride. Frederick vows to keep her safe even if his forbidden love costs him his life.
A dark, handsome man sat on her bed and she wasn’t about to waste another minute. Stepping closer, she thrust out her chest—her bosom eye level with him. “Please help me undress.” More confidence worked into her voice.
Frederick reached up with his long arms and carefully undid the first button, his fingers brushing the base of her throat. The buttons went all the way down the front of her dress. When he unhooked the buttons covering her chest, she drew a sharp breath. The heat traveling through the cloth made her nipples peak.
He moved with unhurried grace, so careful as if he was afraid his strong fingers would tear the fabric. He lingered a second longer than necessary before moving to the lower buttons. Her pulse sped. She had never experienced such tender attention before. The thrill wound its way through all her nerves to her mound.
Frederick slipped off the bed and onto his knees. His fingers worked on the last buttons. When his gaze fell between her thighs, she moistened. The lust in his eyes spoke to her body like nothing had before. He wanted her.
She relished the thought, savoring it like a piece of chocolate.
For the first time in her life she felt like a woman worthy of love. She had never felt wanted before. She yearned to form a connection with him. She reached out and grabbed his sturdy shoulders. He placed a kiss on the back of each of her hands. She tingled where his lips touched.
After working her arms free, she let him pull the dress all the way down until the garment puddled at her feet. He eyed her petticoats hungrily, but hesitated.
His restraint increased the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. She held the power. He was there to serve her.
“You may take down my petticoats.”
Frederick did as he was told. Now standing in nothing but her white silk camisole and drawers, she shivered, not from cold, but from excitement.
She hadn’t bothered with the confining corset this morning. The impropriety gave her an unprecedented rush. She spent the whole day in the house anticipating this moment.
Frederick reached down and took the bottom of the camisole in both hands. Emma nodded and he slowly pulled the chemise off over her head, revealing her light skin a little at a time.
When he touched her drawers, she quivered. He pulled her drawers down quickly and she stepped out. His touch was so intimate she longed to have him roam his hands over all her curves. He was older than her—perhaps twenty-five and his expression told her he was eager to proceed. He knew much more about carnal pleasures than she did. She would enjoy the experience.
He stood there, taking in her beauty. His six-foot-three frame slightly bowed, all his attention on her. Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Her insides twisted and she felt a conscious blush. Hopefully he liked what he saw.
“What would you like me to do now, ma’am?” Frederick asked in a husky voice.
Emma pointed to his trousers. “Finish undressing.”
(Moonlight Romance Book 1)
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About the Author:
Haley Whitehall lives in Washington State where she enjoys all four seasons and the surrounding wildlife. She writes historicals set in the 19th century U.S. When she is not researching or writing, she plays with her cats, watches the Western and History Channels, and goes antiquing. She is hoping to build a time machine so she can go in search of her prince charming. A good book, a cup of coffee, and a view of the mountains make her happy. You can connect with her on her websitehaleywhitehall.com and on Twitter@HaleyWhitehall.