Pleasure Point

by Eden Bradley

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  For more information about the island of Eden, check out our website!

  March

  Master of the Island by Lauren Hawkeye

  April

  Random Acts of Fantasy by Julia Kent

  Yours Truly, Taddy by Avery Aster

  Escape From Reality by Adriana Hunter

  May

  Hydrotherapy by Suzanne Rock

  Fight For Me by Sharon Page

  His Fair Lady by Marian Tee

  June

  Breaking Free by Cathryn Fox

  Hold Me Close by Eliza Gayle

  Queen’s Knight by Sara Fawkes

  July

  How To Tempt A Tycoon by Daire St. Denis

  Dare to Surrender by Carly Phillips

  The Capture by Erika Wilde

  August

  Rough Draft by Mari Carr

  Blurring The Lines by Roni Loren

  Return to Sender by Steena Holmes

  September

  Pleasure Point by Eden Bradley

  Wild Ride by Opal Carew

  Master of Pleasure by Lauren Hawkeye

  October

  Her Desert Heart by Delilah Devlin

  Ivy in Bloom by Vivi Anna writing as Tawny Stokes

  Thorne of a Rose by Kimberly Kaye Terry

  November

  Falling or Flying by R.G. Alexander

  Elusive Hero by Joey W. Hill

  Captive of Desire by Sarah Castille

  December

  Delicious and Deadly by C.C. MacKenzie

  Pleasure Games by Jessica Clare

  The Last Seduction by Jennifer Probst

  More from Invitation to Eden

  Have you read Invitations to Eden’s other September release?

  WILD RIDE by Opal Carew

  Her friend told her dreams come true at Eden, but this is more like a nightmare.

  Marissa is shaken when her bad-assed biker ex-boyfriend begins to stalk her. After receiving an invitation to an exclusive resort called Eden, she jumps at the chance to get away. But even in paradise, she can’t escape the man from her past. As he’s closing in on her, a passing stranger on a motorcycle pulls up and orders her onto his bike. Frightened and willing to take any chance to flee her dangerous ex, she does as he says. Her knight in supple leather manages to lose her ex and take her to a secret hideaway, but now she finds herself overwhelmed by his potent masculinity and submitting completely to his authoritative commands.Killer didn’t want to be her saviour. He had problems of his own. But once Marissa’s under his protection, he will do whatever he can to keep her safe. Even force her to face her deepest fears.

  Wild Ride by Opal Carew

  FIGHT FOR ME by Sharon Page

  I had to drop out of college to raise my son after his dad, bad boy MMA fighter Ryder King, and I broke up. Ryder is so haunted by demons he won’t let me into his heart. Fame, fortune, and fighting didn’t bring him any peace, and I knew, for the sake of our child, I had to leave him.

  That’s when I started seeing Ryder’s best friend, Xavier Malone, a former fighter who built a billion dollar empire. Xavier is powerful and gorgeous, but also caring and wonderful with my son. We were friends at first and now I’m falling for him—but I’m scared to commit.

  Then I receive an invitation to the island of Eden, a luxurious resort where I can live my every sensual fantasy. I’m certain Xavier sent it. But after I leave my son with my mom and fly to Eden, I discover I’m in the middle of a grudge match between Xavier and Ryder. They are going to fight for me: inside the ring in a charity match, and outside it—where they both plan to seduce the pants off me. But I have a surprise for them too.

  Excerpt

  Both the men in my life are coming here.

  Stunned, I hear a thud and realize I dropped my carryon bag. Xavier had to know Ryder would be here when he invited me. They’re in a fight together.

  So why bring me here now? What does he want?

  “Ms. King?”

  “It’s Tate,” I say automatically. Then I look up into the handsome face of a young man in a grey suit with a name tag on his lapel. His name is Rodney and he has a bright smile.

  “Good evening, Ms. Tate,” he says. “May I check you in?”

  He must think I’m crazy, staring at a poster and dropping my luggage. But he waves his hand and suddenly another employee comes forward, picks up both my carryon and my suitcase.

  This building has its own front desk, charmingly worked into a Regency-style parlor. But I keep staring at the poster. Rodney has to tell me my room number three times before it sinks in.

  The porter takes me up to my room via an ornate elevator. My room is at the end of the hall and I know it’s going to overlook the ocean.

  He opens the door with an old-fashioned key. My key is a futuristic patch that I can stick anywhere on my body and that automatically opens my door. The geek in me—the one turned on by rocks and geology—is highly impressed.

  “Your room, Ms. Tate. We hope it is satisfactory. If I can do anything to improve your stay at Eden, do not hesitate to call.”

  I am about to tell the porter I am delighted—the bedroom looks like one Lizzie Bennett would have—when I sense movement in the corner of my eye. Someone is stepping forward, someone tall and masculine who moves like a graceful panther. I spin around—

  It’s not Xavier.

  It’s Ryder.

  Ryder slips a folded bill into the hand of my porter, who bows and withdraws. I’m standing in the center of my charming room, my jaw almost on the floor. “What are you doing here?”

  “I invited you here, Tessa.”

  Then it all makes sense. “My mother knew.” Of course, she had to. “But she didn’t tell me. I thought Xavier did this and she let me go right on thinking that.”

  “I asked her to keep it secret. Your mom was willing to help me because she wants us to reconcile.”

  “Yeah, but I’m her daughter.” I realize he means Mom wants us to get back together so much, she’s willing to lie to me. She never understood why I said we couldn’t make up. She would get so frustrated. Keeping secrets from you isn’t such a big deal, she would say. He’s never hit you or Jakey. He’s never done a thing to hurt either of you. Ryder is a good husband.

  “You did all this. The plane tickets. The gift certificate. Arranging for staff to help Mom while I’m away.” That’s obvious, but my brain seems to be working slowly. “Why all the secrecy, Ryder?”

  “I never dreamed you’d figure it was anyone but me who sent the invitation.” He pouts and looks so sexy it makes me physically ache.

  I frown, trying not to be affected by how gorgeous he is. “Why didn’t you just put your name on the invitation?”

  “I wanted it to be an adventure.”

  Since I had such a crush on him I used to watch him every chance I could get. Sometimes, as a fourteen-year-old, I’d spy on him when he was in his backyard. Honestly, I feel embarrassed by the memory, but with all those hours I spent drooling over his expressions, I know them well. So I know when he’s hiding something. He’s doing that right now. “No, that’s not the reason.” Then I get it. “You didn’t think I’d come if I knew the truth.”

  He shakes his head. “I thought you would know it was me, Tessa. But your first guess was Malone.”

  “I’m dating Xavier now.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Ryder, I can’t stay.”

  “I can’t believe my best friend tried to steal you.”

  “It’s not stealing when we’re separated,” I point out.

  He sits on the edge of the bed—it’s a feminine bed, and the ruffles and bed columns contrast with Ryder’s hard body and intense masculinity. His strength and power always seem to be sizzling inside him. Even when he sleeps, he never looks totally relaxed.

  Sitting on my bed, he looks even sexier than usual. His T-shirt reveals his strong biceps and big shoulders and his jeans clin
g to his muscular legs.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “For a vacation.” He grins. “That’s not entirely true. I brought you to Eden to give you pure sexual pleasure. Your every fantasy fulfilled. All you have to do is say yes.”

  His husky voice makes me shiver. And get hot. “You’re trying to bribe me into staying.”

  He gives a sheepish grin. “Fuck, yes.”

  Around Jakey, Ryder is careful with his language. He usually is around me. Sometimes, when he knew it would arouse me—the bad boy thing—he would slip back into the gritty way of talking he had when I first met him. When he acted like a tough kid.

  “I’m going to fight for you,” he says.

  “It’s not a matter of fighting for me,” I say. “I loved you. Completely. I still do—that’s what is making my life so damn hard, Ryder. But we can’t be together.”

  “At least have dinner with me tonight.”

  “I can’t stay, Ryder.”

  “Tessa, angel, you can’t leave the island tonight.” His turquoise eyes hold mine. Filled with hope. Have dinner with me and then decide tomorrow if you want to go home.”

  “I can’t, Ryder. Having dinner with you would be a bad idea.”

  Fight For Me by Sharon Page

  BLURRING THE LINES by Roni Loren

  A year has passed since Gretchen lost her fiancé, but she still can’t sleep. Or paint. And her new home in New Orleans is either haunted or she’s finally going crazy.

  Her bet is on the latter.

  So when her best friend, Burke, offers to sweep her away to a private luxury island for a break, she can’t say no. Maybe if she can be someone else for a few days, the ghosts of the past will quiet. At least for a little while.

  Burke knows what she’s going through. She lost her fiancé, but he lost family. He gets her in a way no else can. But lately she’s noticing things she shouldn’t about her former fiancé’s younger brother—his sexy smirk, that spicy Cajun accent, and the way he looks at her when he thinks she’s not paying attention. A week alone with him? Dangerous. If she blurs the lines between them, she could ruin the only friendship that means anything to her. She could ruin it all.

  But the island of Eden has its own agenda. The island knows what you need. That’s what the invitation says. She just never imagines it will grant her the one wish that could destroy them both.

  ~Gretchen~

  Sometimes I could still feel the weight of him depressing the mattress—that warm, solid body sleeping soundly next to me, the steady whooshing of breath. In and out. In and out. I used to lie in bed and listen to him like others listen to recordings of ocean waves, letting the sound lull me to sleep, soothe my mind after the chaos of the day. It was the sound of life.

  Our lives.

  Until the morning I woke up and only the weight was there. Not the warmth. Not the sound. Just the heaviness. And the utter, chilled silence.

  Like waking up lost in deep space with no tether. Floating, floating, floating as all that darkness swallowed me up.

  And at times like these, lying in bed at four in the morning, unable to sleep yet again, that darkness clung to me still, like some oily residue that would never wash off. Like I’d be weighed down for life, always trying to breathe through the sludge.

  I rolled over, pulling my quilt more tightly around me, the numbers on the clock mocking me, and I knew there’d be no more rest tonight. I’d woken up with that breathing sound in my head again and the unshakeable feeling that I wasn’t alone. That Harris was somehow here, a tangible presence hiding in one of the many shadows of my darkened bedroom. I probably should’ve been scared. That’d be a normal reaction. Instead, I wished it were the truth. Then at least I could demand some answers.

  Something creaked in the front of the renovated shotgun house I’d called home for the last year, the floorboards speaking to me as if to confirm my sense of unease. I groaned aloud. Now I definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep. Even knowing the house was old and the wind rumbling through the crawlspace beneath the house allowed for all kinds of unfamiliar sounds, I’d have to get up and make sure everything was locked. Ghosts I could deal with. Breaking and entering? Not so much.

  I shoved the covers off of me and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts I’d left hanging over the footboard. Wrapping my arms around myself, I padded first to the kitchen to check the backdoor then headed through the straight line of open doorways to the front of the house to check the main door.

  Outside, the wind swirled post-rainstorm, rattling the shutters on the side of the house and making the oak tree in my neighbor’s yard paint odd, jerking shadows on the blinds. But when I peeked through the front window, the city of New Orleans was fast asleep—well, at least my corner of it. A few miles away, the French Quarter would still be filled with lights, music spilling out of the doorways, and the raucous, drunken voices of tourists and locals alike. But here, on my narrow street, the sherbet colored houses were locked up tight, the windows dark.

  Another floorboard groaned behind me, and goose bumps rose on my skin. I leaned back from the window as a shadow moved across the wall. One that was way too fluid to be the tree. My muscles tensed, and I spun around in a Gotcha! rush—stupid, considering the last thing I’d want to do with a weapon-wielding intruder was startle him. But, of course, nothing was in my small living room except the things that were always present—the sharp-cornered New York furniture that was too modern for this house and the mostly blank canvases in the corner that served as a constant reminder of what I couldn’t do anymore.

  I used to paint. Now I was an expert at staring at blank white space.

  Probably because I couldn’t freaking sleep long enough to give my brain any kind of creative reboot. No, instead of resting, I was up in the middle of the night chasing ghosts—actually hoping one was there. Pathetic.

  I leaned against the wall and ran a hand over my face. This was ridiculous. Next I’d be buying an Ouija board and inviting friends over to play Light as a Feather Stiff as a Board. I needed to stop doing this to myself.

  But as I stood there with my eyes closed, I got that prickly awareness again, like I was being watched. Was that the breathing sound again? Whoosh, ahhh. In. Out.

  I couldn’t open my eyes, and my heart pulsed in my throat. Okay, maybe I was losing it. Sleep deprivation could cause hallucinations and paranoia, right? My gran would say that wasn’t it. She’d told me when I was young that old houses held old souls. Just make your mind quiet and maybe you’ll hear them, she’d say. Back then, the thought excited me more than frightened me. Maybe because Gran had given me the St. Benedict medal that I’ve worn around my neck every day since I was seven. She’d told me it protected me from evil spirits, and I took Gran’s word as law. After all, she was the expert. She’d made quite a living selling her candles, catholic saint medals, and gris-gris pouches at her little shop in the Quarter to help protect people from those things.

  And besides Gran’s word, I thought I had my own evidence. Because in those early years, there’d been times I’d sensed the magic in the air, the otherness surrounding me. I’d heard whispers, echoes of distance voices when I was alone. My mom often caught me in the middle of the night, talking to my father who’d died when I was eight. Gran had called me sensitive. My mother had called me troubled. And when she’d plopped me down in a therapist office, they’d found a label for those odd feelings and behaviors—grief, loneliness, a little girl missing the father she’d loved.

  They’d put me on medication. Soon after, the voices had quieted, that spark of energy humming at the edges of my awareness had gone dark. My father had been lost to me for good. I’d been fixed. Sad. But fixed.

  Or so I’d thought. Then I’d come home to New Orleans and had felt that weird energy quietly buzzing in the background—like it’d simply been waiting for me to return and embrace it again. But I was beginning to think it was simply false hope—or a straight up mental breakdown in progress.


  Because over the last few months, I’d found myself wishing Gran’s beliefs were the truth, that if I tried hard enough, I could call forth Harris and ask him all the questions that had run on loop in my brain for the last year. That maybe if I had some closure, I could paint again. Sleep again. Do something.

  I’d even gone to one of the mediums who set up shop in the Quarter near my gran’s shop. Talk about a complete waste of time. She’d said she couldn’t help me and had given me my money back. She hadn’t even bothered to fake it. He will come to you when he’s ready, miss.

  Bull. Shit.

  Blurring The Lines by Roni Loren

  ROUGH DRAFT by Mari Carr

  Capture, bondage and fantasies fulfilled.

  It’s all fun and games until someone gets killed.

  Bestselling crime novelist Jett Lewis is stumbling over a wicked case of writer’s block, his fast-flowing words having run dry. His publisher’s screaming “deadline”, the fans are ready to riot, and Jett just wants to disappear. His friend Carissa suggests he get away, clear his head…get laid. And she has just the ticket. Literally. Two passes to Eden, an exclusive island paradise. Recently sans girlfriend, Jett convinces Carissa to go with him, and the resort is more than either of them bargained for—especially when the simple beach trip turns to murder. Thrust into a plot sinister enough to rival Jett’s books, the couple embarks on a search for the killer. The most shocking revelation of all might be their mutual attraction…and how much Jett and Carissa love working undercover.

  Excerpt

  “Why are you here, Carissa?”

  She stopped trying to break free of his grip. She tried to turn her head once more, but Jett merely tightened his grip in her hair. The tug on her tresses had another, more sensual effect, however. Her voice was breathless when she asked, “What do you mean?”