The fourth installment in the Players of Marycliff University series follows the developing relationship of Lance and Abby from Summer Fling. It’s a story about family, trust, and where you should turn when life gets messy. If you’re looking for a hero you can swoon over and make your next book boyfriend, one-click Unsaid Things now!
Coping Skills, Book 5
Learning to deal ...
Back at Marycliff University for her senior year, Elena Martinez is still reeling from her father’s devastating car accident over the summer. Awash in anger and guilt and shouldering ongoing family responsibilities, she tries to pretend that everything's fine, even though it’s anything but.
Daniel Carter has been looking forward to seeing Elena again all summer. Sexy and energetic, she’d captured his attention on the surf trip they’d both gone on in early June, and he’s eager continue what they started on the beach. But when he runs into her the week before classes start, she’s subdued and carrying the obvious weight of emotional pain. Determined to help her, he becomes her refuge from the stress and grief pulling her under.
Will Daniel’s persistence be enough to break through Elena’s emotional barriers? Or will her fears and hangups be the end of their relationship before it can really even start?
Gripping and emotional, Coping Skills will hook you in and not let go until the very end. If you love strong and stubborn heroines, dominant and caring alphas, and stories that hit you in all the feels, one-click this book now!
False Assumptions, Book 6
First impressions aren’t always right.
Layla Caldwell is finishing her senior year, intent on keeping her head down, acing her classes, and getting a job after graduation that allows her time to write. The last thing she has time for is a playboy football player who flirts with any and every female. But he's just who she gets paired up with in class.
Evan Coopman has seen Layla around and been intrigued by the quiet, pretty girl who keeps to herself. Now’s his chance to get to know her. Except she wants nothing to do with him, treating him with disdain since she thinks he’s a dumb jock who couldn’t pass a class without a lot of help.
Forced to work together, their relationship progresses from cold dislike to grudging respect. But Layla isn’t convinced that her first impression of Evan is wrong after all. Will his reputation be his downfall? Or will her assumptions ruin everything?
If you love snarky heroines and chemistry that ignites on the page, grab this fun, enemies to lovers story now!
Rebound Series
Rebound Therapy, Book 1
There’s no word for someone like me.
If the crash that ended Tom’s life had happened five weeks later, I’d be a widow.
Instead? I’m just … tragic. My happily ever after was ripped away before it even had the chance to start.
It’s been a year since fate took him away from me. And my best friend Amy is convinced that I’m stuck, refusing to move on. Since I won’t go to a grief support group, which was her first suggestion, she’s decided I need a hot, dirty fling. To move on and get back to living again instead of just existing.
She calls it rebound therapy.
I call it a load of crap. But there’s no arguing with her once she gets an idea in her head. And going out for drinks with my friend isn’t a bad way to spend an evening, even if I know she's going to be scoping out all the available men in our vicinity.
What I don’t expect is to actually meet one. But Brian slips past all my defenses. Sexy and sweet, he makes me leave behind the sad, depressed girl I’d become, bringing me to life again.
Until a cruel reminder of what really happened the night Tom died slaps me in the face. How can I ever get past that?
*Rebound Therapy is a sexy, sweet standalone about starting over and learning to love again. If you love angsty reads that hit you in all the feels but leave you with a smile on your face, grab this book now!
Rebound Envy, Book 2
You know the old saying, “Always the bridesmaid never the bride”? Well, in my case it’s the maid of honor.
My best friend Jenna is engaged for the second time. I’m happy for her. I really am. She’s been through a lot, and she deserves the wedding of her dreams.
I just wish I could find someone too. It stings that she’s fallen in love for the second time, ready to walk down the aisle, and I’ve never even been close.
It's not for lack of trying.
To make matters worse, her fiancé’s wine bar had become our favorite hangout. That is, until I dated his business partner Adam. I thought we had a connection, but after the second date he stopped calling. He's been weird and formal—instead of flirty and charming—ever since.
I make sure to show up with a date for the engagement party, thinking that’ll make things easier. But Adam starts acting like a jealous ex, and I can’t figure out his problem. He’s the one who stopped calling me.
Now I’m the maid of honor and Adam’s the best man. I won't be able to avoid him anymore. We’ll have to make nice so we don’t ruin things for our friends.
With him constantly going hot and cold, I'm off-balance and don't know how to act. And when he kisses me in front of everyone two days before the wedding?
Everything just gets even more complicated.
*Rebound Envy is a slow-burn, sexy standalone, with lots of chemistry and a sizzling finish. If you love great friendships, Princess Bride references, and steamy scenes that make you squirm, one-click the second book in the Rebound Series now!
Rebound Revival, Book 3
What’s the best way to get over your cheating ex-boyfriend?
Take a new job halfway across the country and have a fantastic one-night stand your first night in town.
At least that’s what I did.
I felt pretty good about my decisions … until I bumped into the guy that gave me the best orgasms of my life my first day at work.
Turns out, he owns the vineyard where I’m the new events coordinator. And he’s not satisfied with just one night.
I’d invited him back to my hotel as a palate cleanser, and now he wants to be the main course. Or to make me the main course.
Aside from the problems inherent in the fact that Max is my boss’s boss, I’m still raw from the end of my last relationship. And he's too experienced to be anything but a player. Am I just setting myself up for more heartbreak by getting involved with him?
*Rebound Revival is a steamy standalone romance about how sometimes a change of scenery is just what you need to find yourself, and maybe even someone else. If you love stories about starting over and taking chances, get this book today!
Short Stories
Cure for a Bad Day
Avery has had the worst day.
She found out her boyfriend is married when she went to visit him at his office and encountered his wife. In a funk, she’s missed her train stop on the way home. A sexy stranger notices her and invites her out for drinks.
Is this just what she needs to get over her bad day?
Chapter One
“Hey! Watch it!” The asshole that bumped into Abby didn’t even bother turning around when she yelled at him. He’d made her spill her drink, and now Jack and Coke was splashed all over her hand, bare legs, and new sandals.
“Great. What a jerk.” Switching her cup to her left hand and shaking the excess liquid from her right, she started to weave her way through the crowd of drunken Marycliff University students to find the kitchen.
She’d somehow let Megan convince her that coming to the party would be fun. She’d even made a token effort—a flowy lightweight tank with spaghetti straps, her favorite denim shorts that showed off her legs, and her new strappy sandals. Sandals that were now covered in liquor and soda, and would probably be sticky once they dried.
Megan had abandoned her over an hour ago, shortly after they’d gotten their drinks. Abby had seen her doing body shots a little later, and the last time she’d seen Megan s
he had been making out with a guy against the wall in the hallway. Abby could only imagine what had happened since.
She finally managed to get to the kitchen, which was just as crowded as everywhere else. A breakfast bar with cups and drinks laid out dominated the room. The real attention grabber was the keg and the idiot doing the keg stand. Abby elbowed her way through the crowd, trying to get to the sink so she could try to clean up a little. She didn’t feel like spending the rest of the night sticky.
Someone was standing at the sink. His back was to her, and he wore a t-shirt that stretched taut across his shoulders and biceps, and jeans that hung nicely from his hips. Nice ass. She allowed a smirk to flit across her mouth before approaching him.
“Excuse me.” She tried to pitch her voice loud enough to be heard over the noise of the party without shouting. No response.
She tapped on his shoulder and practically yelled in his ear. “Excuse me!”
As he turned, someone knocked into Abby from behind. She lurched forward against the guy’s chest, crushing her cup against his abs and splashing the remains of her drink all over them both.
He let out a surprised shout. He had grabbed her upper arms to steady her when she ran into him, but had pushed her away when he felt the liquid soaking his shirt.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Abby covered her mouth with her hand, feeling like a complete moron. He stood there with his arms out looking down at the mess on his shirt. Then he looked at the matching stain on her shirt and his lips twitched like he might be suppressing a smile.
He cleared his throat. “It’s okay.” There was laughter in his voice.
Abby crinkled her brows in confusion. Why is he laughing at me? I just spilled my drink all over him. Then she noticed that his eyes were glued to her chest, and she looked down.
Abby gasped. Her light pink tank was more or less see-through now that it was wet. She could clearly see the pattern of the lace on her bra, as well as her pointed nipples. She crossed her arms over her chest, which made the guy snort a little, starting to lose the battle to suppress his laughter.
“Can you move, please?” Her demand was laced with irritation. The smug bastard was still snorting with barely suppressed mirth and staring at her boobs, not even trying to hide it.
He stepped to the side and leaned one hip against the counter, allowing Abby access to the sink and himself a front row seat. His snorting had turned into chuckling and was quickly progressing to full-blown laughter. Abby shot him a glare while she turned on the sink and looked for a towel or paper towel or something to use to wipe off the soda.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re going to be able to do much to help your shirt.” His voice was low and rumbly, a slight drawl accenting his words. He had leaned forward to talk to her, and she could feel his breath moving the tiny hairs that had escaped from her ponytail on the back of her neck.
“Yes, I realize that.” She spit the words through clenched teeth. “But the soda spilled all over me. I’d like to at least get the stickiness off my skin before figuring out how to get home.” When she turned to look at him, his face was only inches away from her own.
Before she could react to his closeness, he leaned back and snagged a roll of paper towels off the counter. The move caused his shirt to lift, revealing a strip of tanned skin. Her eyes snapped back up to his face as he handed her the paper towels, noticing that amusement still glinted in his dark eyes.
Abby ripped off two or three paper towels, got them wet, and started mopping up the worst of the mess on her arms and legs. She had to get more paper towels when she got to her sandals. After trying and failing to wipe her sandals out, she gave up and just stuck them under the running water. They were soaking wet, but at least they were clean.
It was bad enough that her new top was now a mess, with a brown stain all over it from her drink. She hoped it’d come out in the wash, but she really wasn’t sure. She also hoped her shoes weren’t ruined. She’d just gotten them that afternoon—cute flats with silver straps that crisscrossed their way over the top of her foot to where they secured around her ankle. They weren’t that impressive, but Abby liked them.
And Charlie Chuckles was still standing next to her watching her attempts to de-soda-ify her shoes. He might have a nice ass, and okay, nice arms, but he didn’t have very nice manners. She’d think he had a nice smile too, if he wasn’t using it to embarrass her.
“Enjoying the show?” Abby straightened up to get more paper towels.
“Very much.” He didn’t even bother to hide his smile now. Abby huffed in annoyance and turned back to her sandals, the corners of her mouth twitching in response. She was trying to hold onto her irritation, but it was difficult when he kept grinning at her like that.
“I’m Lance.” Chuckles stuck out his hand when she was done with her sandals. Glancing at his face and then to his hand, she placed her hand in his and gave it a quick, firm shake.
“Hi.” Abby dropped his hand right away, ignoring his firm grip and the slight callouses on his palm. She turned away from him, trying to find the best way through the crowd so she could leave.
“Usually when someone introduces himself, it’s polite to give your name in return.”
She didn’t spare him more than a glance, still scanning for an opening to make her escape. “When someone’s covered in soda, it’s polite not to stare at their see through shirt and laugh at them while they clean their shoes.”
“Touché.”
Spotting a hole, Abby started to go, but stopped when he put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you need a ride or something?”
She turned back to face him. “What?” He was close beside her, his head bent toward hers so he could talk next to her ear.
“Earlier you said you’d need to find your way home. How did you get here?” His hand was still on her shoulder, heavy and warm, holding her in place.
“I came with a friend. She drove, but judging by the last time I saw her I don’t think she’ll be driving home. I have no idea where she is now, but I’m ready to leave.” She made a gesture to her shirt.
“Let me give you a ride.”
“I don’t even know you.” She shrugged off his hand, disconcerted by his continued touch and proximity. She turned toward the crowd again. The gap that she’d intended to use was gone, taken up by a new cluster of drunk people.
“Sure you do. I’m Lance. On the other hand, I don’t know you, so maybe you’re right.” He was standing close behind her, and she only had to turn her head to see that he was grinning again.
“Right, you’re very funny.” She sighed. “Fine. I’m Abby.”
Lance threw an arm around her shoulders and started steering her toward the door. He just laughed again when she shrugged off his arm. She could see his shoulders shaking as he walked in front of her, his broad frame clearing a path for them both.
Once outside, Lance turned to her. “Do you need to find your friend and let her know you’re leaving?”
“No, I’ll just text her. There’s a good chance I don’t want to find her right now anyway.” Lance waited while Abby pulled out her phone, texted Megan, and slipped it into her back pocket. Abby was grateful that he gave her a little more space than he had inside.
It was after ten now, and the late twilight of June had finally given way to darkness. The concrete and asphalt radiated the heat from the day, but the darkness and cool breeze were a relief after being in a house full of the fug of bodies and alcohol.
She followed Lance to his car, a little over a block away. The slight breeze plastered Abby’s still-wet shirt against her skin. She plucked it away, grimacing at the stickiness, painfully aware of her erect nipples.
She wasn’t sure what to make of Lance. He made her feel by turns embarrassed and flattered by his attention. Abby didn’t like strangers touching her. Part of the problem with Lance, though, and why she’d shrugged his arm off so quickly, was that it felt oddly comfortable. She’d enjoyed the warmth of h
is body pressed against hers, the feel of his hand where it rested on her arm, the hardness of the muscles hidden by his shirt. The guy obviously worked out.
Lance walked a few steps ahead of her, leading the way to his car. He didn’t say anything, but glanced her way now and then to make sure she was still there.
Lance used his key to unlock the passenger side door of his car. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She had pegged him as driving a flashy sports car—something red, maybe, and fast. But the door he held open for her was attached to a beat up old muscle car. It was some indeterminate yellowy gray rust combination that was hard to make out in the light from the nearby street lamp. She looked at him for a minute before sliding into the car.
Counterpoint and Harmony (Songs and Sonatas Book 5) Page 21
