I’m so excited to share my new release with you guys! Grade A Asshole is releasing this month as a full-length novel with over 30 chapters. This story was so much fun to write! I really hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I do. If you haven’t signed up for my newsletter, make sure that you do. I will be sending readers an email as soon as the book goes live. It’s set to release this month (April!)

Scroll down for a sneak peek at chapter 1.

Pre-order your copy on Amazon here.

Take a peek at chapter 1 of this highly anticipated, steamy professor/student romance.

I eat professors like him for breakfast.

My fingers pulse as I sit waiting with my English paper in hand, and an argument on the tip of my tongue. There’s no way I deserve this grade. My cheeks burn at the sight of the bright letter F on my most recent class essay. Poetry has never been my forte, but I signed up for English 401: Poetry and Prose because it’s the only elective I need before graduation. Was it stupid to assume we would be doing more reading than writing? Maybe. Sure I’m not a fan of fluffy imagery, or the complexity of Keats’ love for nature, but I’m a damn good writer.

Professor Dorian’s class was supposed to be an easy A. After four years of busywork, stuffy literary papers, and over the pretentious professors who act like they know everything, I’m over school. I’m ready to travel the world, get away from my dysfunctional family, and find my place in the world. Besides, if I have to read The Bell Jar one more time, I’m going to stick my head in an oven.

My forehead is in my hands when I hear footsteps echoing down the hallway. Relief washes over me as I silently recite my well-conceived argument for Professor Dorian. I’ll just make my case and he’ll have to let me rewrite my paper. Right? There’s a reason why everyone chooses to take his class during their final quarter. Professor Dorian uses a curved grading scale, and he’s well-known by students as a softie on all accounts.

I straighten at the sound of footsteps echoing just outside the door. The rush of relief that hits me as the office door opens immediately melts into confusion. A sharp-looking man dressed in a white dress shirt and slacks walks into the office without a word. Who the hell is this? The mysterious man is definitely not the portly Professor Dorian I was expecting. This man is gorgeous. He’s tall with silver highlighted brown hair, a 5 o’clock shadow, and piercing green eyes that sit framed by thick black glasses. His shoulders are wide, so wide they nearly brush the sides of the  door frame as he steps through. 

I swallow, suddenly all too aware of how small this office is. If he steps any closer, he might as well be on top of me. Not that that would be a bad thing. My hormones rage as a fleeting look of curiosity passes across his face. His shrewd gaze takes me in and lingers on my face. If he’s even one tenth as surprised to see me as I am to see him, he doesn’t show it. The silver-haired fox shows neither interest nor surprise. I’m so awe-struck by him that I barely register that he’s finally acknowledged my presence.

“Can I help you?”

The disinterest in his voice is clear – piercingly so. He sets down the leather briefcase in his hand and leans it against the tiny bookcase across from Professor Dorian’s messy desk. He does this without ever taking his eyes off me. The way he looks at me reminds me of the predators I see on the National Geographic Channel my roommate forces me to watch. It’s slow and purposeful as if I’m his prey waiting to be taken.

I clear my throat, feeling a dryness setting in. 

“I’m sorry, I’m here to see Professor Dorian. I must have the wrong room.”

I begin to stand but sit back down realizing that I’m definitely in the right office. Professor Dorian’s name was on the front of his office door. A silence falls between the two of us, leaving me to twiddle my thumbs as I wait for the green-eyed stranger’s response.

“Professor Dorian is my English professor.”

The handsome Adonis flicks his gaze down at me and smiles ever so slightly.

“I’m your professor.”

My jaw falls open in confusion as I attempt an argument. Have I been dreaming this entire semester? I’m fairly certain that my actual English professor is the embodiment of Santa Claus. This guy appears to be the embodiment of a GQ model that stepped off the runway. I’m willing to bet under that dress shirt and tie, there’s abs without an inch of fat.

“No – I mean… Professor Dorian is old and -“

“And dead,” he says, cutting me off. My eyes widen at his flat declaration. “Professor Dorian recently passed away, so I’m taking over a few of his classes,” he says. “You can call me Professor Grant.”

“Oh, shi-” I begin to say, trying to cover my surprise. “I mean great… Nice to meet you.”

Professor Dorian wasn’t my favorite professor, but he is – or rather was- one of the sweetest professors. If you could forgive the fact that he liked ogling tits and asses all day. Yeah, he was that kind of professor.

“Let me guess- you’re from English 115.”

Ouch. I’m not a freshman. 

“Do I look like an eighteen-year-old trying to figure out who she is?” The sarcastic comment escapes my mouth before I have a moment to rethink it. Shit, Josie. You’re not making a great impression. A smirk hits his lips, and my skin is immediately set on fire by the sight. Sweet baby Jesus. The more I try not to get flustered, the redder I turn. Professor Grant is hot, really hot, and probably twice as old as me.

“Actually, I’m in English 401,” I say, finally.

The silver-haired fox looks at me as if trying to decide whether I’m lying or not. His gaze is intense and unrelenting in his search for the truth. Damn, he would’ve made a badass detective in another life. He’s practically undressing me with his eyes. Is that such a bad thing? It has been a while since you’ve gotten laid.

He takes a moment as if measuring what he’s about to say. 

“You look -” he begins to say as his eyes rake over me. “I mean… how can I help you this morning, Ms.-“

“Wilde,” I offer.

He makes it a point to step around me before taking a seat at Professor Dorian’s desk – well his desk now. The faint scent of hazelnut and citrus hits me as he passes, slightly brushing against my leg. The smell of him is so intoxicating that I can’t help but lean in. 

“Ms. Wilde?” he says, with a look of confusion.

Shit. Was I just sniffing him like a dog? 

“How can I assist you?” he adds.

I straighten my body and lean further back into my chair, creating as much distance between the two of us as possible. Josie, you’re acting like you haven’t seen a man this drop dead fine in your entire life. You should be used to gorgeous men. You’re the daughter of a Hollywood director. You grew up fawning over even better looking men than him. Get it together.

“Is there something you need?” he presses on, taking his glasses off and setting them on the birch desk.

Yes, I need your clothes off, and you fucking me over this desk. Josie, get a grip on your libido. 

“Um, well, um, yes. I came to speak to Professor Dorian regarding the grade on our last essay assignment.” 

My fingers grasp the paper wedged between my textbook’s pages. I almost feel ashamed to show Professor Grant my grade and I don’t know why. I don’t even know him, and yet suddenly his approval means everything to me. Professor Grant barely acknowledges me before firing off another question. My skin heats as my nerves begin to set in. He ignores my gaze and begins to scribble on a notepad, as if my presence no longer bears any importance to him.

“The paper on your analysis of Robert Frost?” he asks, still staring at his notepad.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

His lips slightly curve into a smirk and despite the movement, the rest of his face remains completely unmoved. 

“What’s wrong with the grade you received?” he asks, practically sighing with boredom.

“It’s… just wrong,” I bite back.

My tone stills him, and I can physically see him mulling over my words. His jaw tightens with the slightest movement. Anxiety crashes through me as he drops his pen and turns his full attention toward me. His gaze penetrates me with an overwhelming dose of irritation.

“I’m quite sure it’s not wrong. In fact, I’m certain. I’m certain the grade you received is the grade you deserve.” 

It takes me a moment to realize that maybe, just maybe, Professor Grant was the one to grade my paper, not Professor Dorian. In fact, I’m willing to bet my life on it. This man is ready to wage a war over one paper like he’s the one being offended. I stand to leave hating to admit defeat. 

“I’ve never received an F on an English paper,” I admit.

And I’ve certainly never deserved one. Not even now. The essay prompt was ridiculous and pretentious. Another busywork assignment that a 12th grader could do with their eyes closed. I grab my textbook and paper, all too ready to leave.

“There’s a first time for everything, Ms. Wilde.” 

I stop in my tracks letting his words roll over me. Irritation seeps through my veins. Is he serious? The room is dead silent, but I can practically hear him laughing at me. I turn to face him and find him looking at me with a stone-cold expression. You’re not winning today, asshole.

“I would like to contest my grade and ask for a rewrite,” I say, refusing to back down.

“Contest all you want, Ms. Wilde. The grade isn’t changing.”

He’s not willing to budge an inch.

“So, you’re not going to let me rewrite the paper?” I ask.

“No, but I’ll tell you what I will do,” he says, with a good measure of arrogance. “If you show up to class and work hard, I’ll let you remain in my class.”

My cheeks burn as his lips emphasize the word my. He turns back to his desk and begins scribbling away on his notepad again.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”

He dismisses me like you would a child. I stare at his profile and curse him silently praying that tomorrow he’ll wake up as ugly as his attitude. Who does he think he is? My eyes trace him from his broad shoulders to his sharp jaw. My annoyance grows as I take in his all too appealing face. I’ve never wanted to throat punch someone as much as I do now. Stupid beautiful man.

I try one last attempt at knocking down his walls.

“I would like an exception to withdrawal from your class.”

Professor Grant shakes his head at me without ever looking up.


I don’t have to look him in the eye to know he’s enjoying this. He wants me to beg for it, and even then he won’t give in to me.

“I didn’t sign up for your class. I signed up for Professor Dorian’s class.”

My words still him as he drops his pen and turns in my direction. He stands stepping into my personal bubble. He’s so close I can smell the dark, sweet scent of his cologne again.

“Ms. Wilde, let me make this clear. You can choose to stop attending my class. It makes no difference to me, but if you do, I will fail you. Your only choice is to continue my class and work hard, or fail and accept the blemish on your record.”

“Blemish? This isn’t The Scarlet Letter,” I retort.

“So you do know some literature,” he says smirking. “Do yourself a favor. Take the easy way and fail my class.”

Oh God, either I delay graduating or I’m stuck with him for the rest of spring? There has to be another way out of this. Why is this man so hateful? Professor Grant picks up my paper from the floor, which I somehow didn’t notice had left my hands. In my fit of fury, I dropped it.

“I expect the best, Ms. Wilde. I don’t deal with students who want to float through their last year of college.”

He thinks he’s so much better than his students.

“You’re an asshole!” I bite back.

The words escape my lips before I have the opportunity to think them through. He looks at me with impatience as if him allowing me to still be here is a gift from God.

“And you, Ms. Wilde, are nothing but a petulant child.”

My cheeks heat at his brash words, and tears prick my eyes. Why is he affecting me this much? Why do I care? I stand taking my paper with the large letter F from his hand, turn, and bolt from his office. There’s no way in hell this is over. Fuck him. My chest is on fire as I practically flee down the hallway. 

Don’t cry, Josie. Don’t cry.

Grade A Asshole

Here’s an unedited sneak peek just for you!

“You think you’re so fucking special, don’t you Ms. Wilde?” His breath is on my ear and his lips are hovering dangerously close. My chin is forced upward as he grabs it. The sheer anger in his eyes should frighten me, but it doesn’t. This man has the power to break me, but something inside tells me he won’t. Something tells me Parker Grant isn’t the complete asshole he appears to be. Then again I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately.

“Maybe I am special,” I counter.

Doesn’t every woman like to think so?

“You’re not.”

The words come out in an hushed growl. In a heartbeat, Parker is leaning down to nip at my neck. His thick tongue slides across my skin as he takes a moment to taste me.

“Maybe you’re intimated by an intelligent woman.”

I drag my lip between my teeth to suppress the moan building inside me. There’s no way I’m letting him know he has an affect on me. Fuck that.

“I’ve met plenty of women like you.”

He glances down my body and then back to me face.

My cheeks burn in anger. “You’ve never met anyone like me, Asshole.”

“I bet you think your pussy’s special too.”

He’s taunting me. This is just another test he’s hoping I fail.

“That, you’ll never find out.”

“But you want me to, don’t you brat? You want my tongue licking your pussy like dessert.”

For a brief moment, I swear I can almost see a smile on his face. But this asshole never smiles so it has to be my imagination.

“I don’t fuck old men.”

“No, you just let them fuck you,” he says, sliding his hand up my skirt.

His touch isn’t gentle.

Part of me doesn’t want it to be. A large part of me. My breath hitches as Parker pushes me against the door to my apartment. God, I hope Vickie isn’t here. For once, it would be nice if my roommate decided to spend the night out instead of studying for her Nursing classes. Parker groans as his erection presses into my thigh. I can feel every inch of it throbbing against me. And there’s a lot of inches.

“I’m sure you’re used to little boys who couldn’t fuck you correctly if there life depended on it.”

I laugh at his arrogance.

He’s right. It doesn’t matter how much I want him to be wrong. I step back from his grasp and roll my eyes in exaggeration.

“Does that mean you’re you ready to show me how it’s done? Are you ready to teach me a new lesson, professor?”

The words drop with sarcasm as I taunt him. The only lesson I’ll be learning tonight is how to get men like Parker Grant out of my system. Several seconds of silence pass between us as our eyes lock on one another. I begin to turn to open my apartment door, but instead find myself being pressed against it, stomach first.

“Lesson one. Don’t talk.”

His hands are pulling down my skirt and unbuckling his belt before I have a chance to reply. In two swift movements, he parts my bare legs and slides his erect cock inside of me. The sensation is so intense I practically scream as he angles himself deeper inside me. Parker doesn’t wait for my body to grow accustom to him. He presses on, only thrusting harder at the sound of my gasps. His hand wraps around my throat, forcing me to turn and kiss him.

Like us, our heated kiss is messy. Imperfect and yet undeniably incredible.

“I guess I’m not too old to fuck you senseless,” he groans.

Filthy Beast Prologue


The blonde at my feet looks up at me through false lashes as she licks her lips like she’s ready to swallow me whole. Luckily for her, I have just the thing to satisfy her appetite.

I groan in pleasure as she slides my cock into her mouth with the eagerness of a porn star. It isn’t unusual for a fan to track me down after a signing, but it is unique to find one waiting half-naked for me in my hotel room. Not that I’m complaining. Not at all. My agent, Marcy, isn’t happy about the number of women I sleep with, but I think it’s mostly because it creates more paperwork for her. More nameless women to track down, more non-disclosures to get signed, and even more messes to clean up. If I didn’t pay her as well as I do, I’m pretty sure she would drop me as a client.

After several delicious minutes in the blonde’s hot, wet mouth, she pushes me back against the king-size bed and crawls on top of me. It doesn’t take long for her to slip off the rest of her clothing to straddle me. A satisfied smile sits plastered to her face as she reaches down and palms my cock. I smirk at the way her eyes grow wide at my girth. It’s all real sweetheart.

The best part about fans is their eagerness to please. I’m never short on women in my bed. And they cream themselves just at thought of meeting Declan Hart, author of the world’s filthiest erotica. Yup, you guessed it baby, that’s me. I take pleasure in feeding into their fantasies. The man they see is just a facade. A carefully constructed persona with an air of mystery.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for months.”

The blonde pulls a condom from the pocket of her discarded jeans, tearing the package with her teeth before slipping it on me. She moans, lost in pleasure as she takes every inch of me inside her.

“Ride me, baby,” I say with a cocky smile.

Her pussy clenches tight around me as she rocks back and forth, her plastic tits swaying in my face. I smother a flicker of annoyance as her hands tangle themselves in my black mane. I’ve never been fond of being touched, as ironic as that sounds. But that doesn’t stop me from getting lost in the feeling of my high. It isn’t long before she’s screaming my name. A rush of endorphins hit me at the sound of it. It’s the same rush I get from a great run, from a ride on my motorcycle, or from jumping out of an airplane at 30,000 feet. I crave that high, chase it like a junkie.

The blonde’s nails claw my chest as I jut my hips up to meet her. My grunting only seems to push her over the edge as her ass bounces on top of me.

“Are you going to come for me? I ask, pulling her hair. “You filthy little slut.”

“Fuck…oh, God,” she moans.

She convulses around me, and a second later I feel hot cum pumping into my rubber. A sense of regret fills me as I detach myself from the woman in my bed. After several awkward seconds of the blonde trying to cuddle me, I roll her off me and walk over to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

The voice purrs, beckoning me to come back. I don’t answer her, hoping that she’ll get the hint that it’s time to leave. We’re just finished and I’m already bored with her. I flush the condom and wipe off with a hot towel, trying to rid myself of the smell of her. After taking several long, appreciative glances in the mirror, I return to the bedroom. To my surprise, I find the blonde spread out across my bed, still naked.

I frown. She’s still here? Her eyes widen with surprise at the blatant irritation on my face.

“How about another round?”

“You need to go, sweetheart.”

“What?” she asks, her overly made-up face scrunched in confusion.

“You don’t want me to spend the night?”

I smirk. “I enjoyed you sucking me off, and I definitely enjoyed the ride, but that’s where it ends. I don’t get involved with fans.”

Her cheeks flame with anger as I turn back to my hotel closet to change. It isn’t until I’m halfway there that I hear something whizzing through the air at me. I duck out of the way just in time to avoid a bottle of Dom Pérignon whirling toward me. I was saving that to celebrate my latest release. The bottle crashes against the wall, sending shards of glass flying across the room as the bubbly liquid poor down the wall. Damn it. Marcy will be on my ass if there are any damages to the hotel room.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she seethes. “No wonder your wife left you.”

I roll my eyes, despite the ache I feel in my chest. All of the women I sleep with have this same reaction, but thankfully the number of bottles flying at my head is low. Their expectations are just so far removed from the reality of what I’m willing to provide. The only relationships that last are the ones in books. I may spend almost every waking moment writing about love and romance, but the truth is that I don’t believe in either.

“Do you want an autograph before you go?” I ask.

“Fuck you and your tiny dick,” she spits back at me.

“We both know that ‘tiny’ isn’t the right word to describe it. Do you need a reminder before you go?” I challenge.

She scoffs as she hurriedly dresses. She pushes past me and grabs her clothes and heels off the floor before quickly dressing.

“I hope your dick falls off,” she says.

“Now, that isn’t very nice, sweetheart.”

She turns to face me, her face as hard as stone. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, asshole. You think the world revolves around you, that all you have to do is flash those baby blues and women will fall for your charms. But one day you won’t have your good looks to rely on. Karma catches up with everyone, even the great Declan Hart.”

“Careful, sweetheart, frigid bitch doesn’t look so good on you.”

She makes no answer as she storms out, leaving me with a full mini-bar and a sour mood.


Two hours and three obnoxiously tiny bottles of whiskey later, I’m still stewing. She has no idea what she’s talking about. No idea who I really am, underneath all the money, the fame, the sex appeal. Is it my fault that I was blessed with a strong, square jaw, thick, wavy brown hair, and blue eyes that more than one woman has said she wanted to get lost in? I worked hard for all that I have. I do all I can to maintain my body well. I eat right, I exercise, I don’t smoke. I don’t make excuses.

But I also know women don’t fall at my feet simply because I look good. No, most of them want the trappings of fame. They want the money, the notoriety, the status. They want the cars and the clothes and the jewelry, all the material excess I can provide. They want the glamor of being with a famous author. I could look like a monster, and I’d still be drowning in pussy. Because at the end of the day, money trumps all. Money trumps love.


The word turns to ash in my mouth. All women want is a cookie cutter relationship. They don’t want the real you. They don’t want the problems, and they sure as hell can’t accept failure. My ex-wife is the perfect example. She left as soon as she could take half of my money. Besides how can anyone hold any semblance of any kind of relationship when my whole life’s on display like a fucking circus? The women I do seem to attract are shallow gold-diggers. Women who look at me and see dollar signs.

I grab another bottle from the mini-bar without looking, not caring what it is. It tastes like fruity shit and burns as it makes its way down my throat. I quickly down the whole thing before I can taste any more of it. Maybe I should go out tonight, try to find someone new. Someone who won’t see me as a meal ticket. Someone who doesn’t know me as Declan Hart, international bestseller and notorious playboy. Someone who’ll make me forget all the empty, meaningless sex I’ve had, all the nameless, faceless women before her.

Yeah, right. As if such a woman even exists. As if I’d even deserve her.

After the sixth bottle, my head is blurry, my thinking is fuzzy, and it seems like an excellent idea to head down to the hotel’s parking garage and find my rental car. The first few miles take me out of whatever-the-fuck city I’m in this week. The full moon limns the tall pine trees surrounding me, and I catch a glimpse of snow-capped mountains in the distance. Seattle, then? Maybe Portland? Fuck if I know. All I know is that it’s not an endless sea of brown like Vegas, where I live.

A sign tells me there’s a sharp curve in the road ahead. If I were in a better mood, the writer in me would probably have something clever to say, some insight about foreshadowing or my life’s journey. But mostly I just feel tired. Achingly, bone-deep tired.

My eyes flutter closed for a moment. Maybe if I rest my eyes for a moment I’ll feel better. Just a brief moment, that’s all I need.

By the time I realize it’s more than a moment, that maybe I’m too drunk to be behind the wheel, I’m already  careening off the road and straight into another black blur.

The last thing I remember before everything goes black is the awful smell of something burning. It seems what’s-her-name was right. Karma does catch up to everyone.

Even me. Declan Hart.

Nicholas & Rebecca After Ever After *Scene*

Once in a while, I still feel like writing about Nicholas & Rebecca. So when I do, I’ll be sure to post those snippets here. 🙂 This is just for me. Just for fun. Just for you.

Please note this is an unedited snippet.


Small hands yank on my apron as I finish placing a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven. I look down to find Alexa waiting for me with a familiar set of blue eyes and an endearing toothy grin. A crown of red curls adorn her head, giving her an almost angelic appearance.

I say almost because earlier I found her covered in chocolate from raiding the kitchen pantry. She has a sweet tooth just like me.

“Momma, when will daddy be home?” she says, tugging on me.

My heart warms at the excitement in her voice. She has zero patience today, but I don’t blame her. Nicholas has been gone for almost a week in California. In two weeks, Knight Publishing will be opening a second office in Los Angeles. My hometown.

“Soon, baby.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when the kitchen door swings open to reveal Nicholas standing there. Speak of the devil. My center instantly heats at the sight of his tousled blond mane, rugged facial hair, and his beautiful blue eyes that seem to rake me up and down like a sex-starved man. How long has he been home?


Alexa practically squeals as she runs over to Nick and throws herself at him. He drops his hands just in time to catch Alexa before swinging her up into his arms. My chest squeezes as he brushes kisses against her curls without ever taking his eyes off of me.

“Hey sweet pea, I missed you,” he says. “Both of you.”

His eyes dance with mischief as he openly stares at my tits. There’s something predatory about that look.

“Did you bring me a present?” Alexa asks with her toothy grin.

Nicholas briefly pulls his attention back to our daughter.

“I got you something right here,” Nicholas says, tapping on his briefcase. “But first, I think we should play a game of hide and seek.”

I bite back a laugh as Nicholas flashes me a sexy grin. He puts our daughter down and then drops his brief case on the kitchen counter. Alexa claps her hands as he whispers instructions to her. She’s all too excited to play. The thing she doesn’t know is that her daddy does this to bide him time. Time that he spends reminding me exactly how much he loves me.

“Okay sweet pea, go hide and then mommy will try to find you.”

“Okay,” she says clapping her hands, before running out the kitchen door.

My heart begins to beat chaotically as Nicholas steps forward counting down as he throws off his dress jacket.


The sounds of feet tapping against the marble echoes as Nicholas begins his count.


His belt comes off in one pull.


His hands grab me, unzipping the back of my dress.


Nicholas doesn’t get past three before he’s shoving me in the kitchen pantry and pulling off my panties.

“Leave the apron,” he chuckles as I begin to untie it. “I love the housewife look.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I tease. “Grad school starts next week.”

Nicholas leans in to kiss me as he rubs circular motions at the nape of my neck.

“Think I can make you come in seven…six seconds?”

“It wouldn’t be fun if we didn’t try,” I tease.

“God, I missed you.”

The words come out in a husky groan before he buries his tongue inside my mouth. Nicholas doesn’t waste any time. In a heartbeat, he shoves his dress pants down and presses inside of me, lifting my body so my legs are wrapped around his hips. I struggle to hold onto the shelving behind me as he rocks into me.

I laugh between kisses as the whole damn shelf rattles with each delicious thrust. Nicholas grins as a macaroni elbow comes flying down and lands perfectly on my naked tits.

“Thanks babe. Dinner & dessert,” he chuckles.

#AmWriting – Protecting Her Curves (SNIPPET)

This story came to me one day and I’ve been having a lot of fun writing it. It’s not one I planned, but sometimes those are the best kind. Protecting Her Curves is a Romantic Suspense with lots of humor, and it features a M/F/M relationship. 😉

As I previously mentioned, I probably won’t be publishing for the new several months but I am definitely still writing. And I’m still very happy to share with you all what I’m working on.

Below is an unedited snippet. I hope you enjoy it.


Standing in my Care Bear underwear and Scooby Doo t-shirt is not what I had in mind when I was hoping to find myself half naked in front of my hot as sin next-door-neighbor, Erik Matthews. Not one bit. Six feet of muscle answers the door wearing nothing but a pair of low cut boxer briefs with the brand Calvin Klein stitched at the top. My gaze fixes on his V cut and the light trail of hair that leads to the tip of his underwear. Damn. Any lower, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to get a Magic Mike preview of Erik’s dick. I’d be lying if I said it was the only thing distracting about my neighbor. But probably the biggest.

“Well damn,” Erik whistles. “I was wondering what was under all those baggy shirts and jeans, but I certainly wasn’t expecting this.”

My cheeks flame as Erik quirks his eyebrow at the sight of my underwear. He traces the dip of my shirt with his gaze, slowly taking in the sight of me. I swallow hard as my cheeks flame. Trying to distract myself is pointless, so I focus in on his inked arm. Three massive skulls sit intertwined with two crimson roses. The colorful tattoo covers one side of his arm in bright hues of orange and red. It’s a stark contrast to his dark skin and jet-black hair.

“Um, can I use your cell to call the apartment manager?” I ask, tearing my gaze from him and covering the front of myself.

By the sight of Erik’s amused smile, I know there’s no use hiding. He can see everything, especially the parts of me that jiggle a little too much. To my surprise, it doesn’t seem to bother him. I never pegged Erik to be the type of guy who likes curvy girls.

“Faster! Yes! Yes! Fuck me!”

The sound of a woman moaning fills the air between us. Oh shit. I’m not even sure what’s going on inside his appointment, but the pleasurable sound that echoes through the air fills me with envy. And something else too.

A loud thud vibrates against the wall followed by a deep throaty roar. I’m pretty sure someone else is over. A sheepish grin appears on Erik’s face as he checks over his shoulder. It doesn’t take long for the throes of passion to stop after one VERY loud orgasm. Almost seconds later, I hear heavy footsteps and the sound of a husky voice calling out over Erik’s shoulder.

“What’s going on man?”

My eyes are treated to the sight of a tall hunk in a white dress shirt that doesn’t hang nearly long enough. Don’t look. Don’t look. But I do.

I clench at the brief sighting of his cock. Fuck me. I’m. In. Trouble.

“Hi, can I help you,” the voice asks with irritation.

Bright baby blues stare at me as Erik leans back against the doorframe and makes room for his friend. The stranger’s eyes remind me of rain clouds hovering over the ocean. He’s gorgeous. And by the unimpressed expression on his face, he already knows it. Cocky. His body language screams over confidence. I force my eyes back to Erik, but it doesn’t help. His wicked grin only makes it harder to avoid the sight of his friend. The stranger’s white dress shirt stops just above his thigh, revealing just enough. My imagination is already spinning out of control. I almost choke at the brief sight of his glistening cock.

“Sorry, Rory, this is my roommate, Connor.”

Wait, he actually knows my name? Erik winks at me and it’s enough to send my panties into a heated mess.

“But you don’t have a roommate,” I blurt.

Perfect, Rory. Now Erik knows that you’re a peeper.

He looks up in surprise as the realization slowly hits him. The sexy dimple in his right cheek deepens. The damn thing is distracting, but so is the piercing on his lower lip. I’ve been imagining what it might feel like pressed up against my clit.

“Can we help you with something,” Connor interrupts.

The intensity of his gaze only seems to increase as the seconds fly by. He’s probably pissed that I interrupted his love fest.

“Uh, yeah. I was wondering if I could borrow your phone to call the apartment manager. I locked myself out.”

“Do you do that often?” Connor asks with a blank stare.

Something in his tone sets something off inside of me. Damn, I know I interrupted him but he really doesn’t need to be such a dick. Plus, if he was so busy why the hell did he stop to answer the door. It’s like he was looking for an excuse to get away from the one inside.

“Easy C, stop being an ass. She’s our neighbor.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just knock on Ms. Traeger’s door.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I stop mid-turn to look up at Erik. His face splits into a grin. Ms. Traeger is gone for the month. Her grandson is babysitting her apartment while she’s on vacation.”

“Maybe he’s hot,” I say, giving Connor a poignant look.

“He’s not,” Connor says with a smirk.

A blaze of heat hits me sending a flush to my cheeks. What an arrogant prick. He probably thinks he’s the hottest shit ever made.

“Damn, you’ve got a temper don’t you,” Erik chuckles.

“Maybe I don’t like assholes.”

Before I have the opportunity to slip away, Connor pulls me toward him. The electricity that shoots through his fingertips and up my skin is enough to light up the whole goddamn city. He let’s me go just as quickly as he grabs me.

Fuck. What was that?

“You shouldn’t be in the hallway looking like that,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“Come inside and I’ll get you my cell,” Erik says, breaking up the tension between us. “It’s in my room.”

I stare at both of them like they’ve grown horns. Go inside the apartment? For the past several months, I’ve been dreaming about this opportunity. Several nights I’ve rubbed one out just thinking about what it would be like to be one of the girls Erik brings home.

Is this my opening? Easy girl. He’s just offering you his cellphone. Not his dick.

Deleted Scene From Drawn to You

Below is a deleted scene that didn’t quite make it into Drawn to You. I hope you enjoy it. 🙂 *Please note, this deleted scene is unedited.


I kick the door behind me closed and pull her toward me. Her petite frame meshes between the bathroom wall and me. A streak of desire hits me as a low moan erupts from her candy colored lips. Emily’s long lashes flicker up toward me in surprise. She wasn’t expecting this.

“What are you doing, Tristan? What do you want?”

“I plan on kissing you.”

“What?” she says, trying to escape my hold.

I step closer, corning her in the bathroom.

“Stop me, if you want.”

A look of uncertainty crosses her face as she looks up at me. I’ve been telling myself that I shouldn’t feel this way, but to hell with it all. The only good thing in my life beside my art is her. A wave of relief washes over me after several seconds of silence.

“Tell me not to touch you and I’ll leave,” I say, lifting her chin with my thumb.

“I hate you.”

The words come tumbling forth from her mouth like knives. The anger in them penetrates my skin, but what cuts me deeper is the hurt behind them. I never wanted to hurt Emily. I would do anything for her forgiveness.

“That isn’t what I asked,” I say.

“You’re bipolar. I can’t figure out where you want to hate me or fuck me.”


Emily pulls away from me as she heads for the door. I quickly block her path, unsatisfied with her refusal to answer.

“Are you afraid, pet?”

“I’m afraid of how you make me feel,” she admits.

“You scare me too, sweetheart.”

My words seem to strike a chord inside her. I feel Emily’s delicate fingers frantically tugging at the bottom of my shirt. There’s a need that vibrates through her fingertips as she touches me. My cock hardens at the warm sensation of her fingers sliding down to the top of my pants. It isn’t long before I feel her palms sliding up my stomach and then around my neck.

Emily isn’t tall enough to kiss me, but it doesn’t deter her from trying. My hands find her hips before quickly lifting her onto the bathroom sink. I hear the sound of items tumbling to the ground, but I don’t care. Her lips collide with mine as her fingers unzip my jeans. A gasp escapes her as my cock springs out. The cool breeze that circulates the bathroom only ceases to make each graze of her skin more delicious.

Emily giggles as I kick my pants to the side and pull her forward. Despite the demure look on her face, she pulls up her skirt without any hesitation. Emily’s clothes come flying off within a matter of seconds. The sight of her naked skin enamors me. Her nipples pucker as they sit exposed to the cool air. I take one into my mouth, teasing it with the edge of my teeth. I could never get used to the way her body responds to mine. It’s an unexpected gift. I bite harder and it only increases the heat I feel growing between her legs.

“Tristan,” she moans.

“Are you ready for me?” I ask, rubbing my cock at her entrance. As her hips buck into me, I know I can only tease us both so long before I unravel in front of her.

“Please,” she begs.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

I slide my lips across her chest and up the side of her shoulder.

“I’m yours.”

Her body vibrates beneath my hold. The need to claim her as mine takes hold of me as my mind swims through the emotions gathering inside me.

“I need you from behind. I want you to watch me fuck you,” I tell her.

Emily takes my hand as she steps off of the counter. She turns toward the mirror and I catch her looking at herself with a critical gaze. I’ve always been amazed at how women can so easily tear themselves down when there’s so much beauty to behold.

“You don’t see you as I do,” I say, pushing her forward. “You’re a goddess.”

Her expression softens as she looks up at me with questioning eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything. Your body tells me everything,” I say, kissing her shoulder.

“Now, bend forward and spread your legs.”

She does as I ask, without further hesitation. The view of her wetness is enough to make me explode, but I have too many things I need to do to her before I finish. I run my hands down her back and down her ass. Her hips move into my touch as I work my way down her skin to get the blood flowing.

I grab her hairbrush off the floor and examine the material. It’s the perfect size. She looks up at me through the mirror and our eyes connect. A mixture of emotions passes through me as her curious gaze transfixes me. I’m willing to bet that no one but me has ever spanked her. I lift the brush and gently tap her bottom. A small sigh escapes her lips as I tap her harder the next time. The harder I tap, the heavier her breathing gets and the more I want to drive her back to my studio to play with.

Her eyes never leave me.

“Are you having fun, pet?”

Her lips never move, but I know she’s smiling.

“Answer me,” I command.



“Should I continue with the brush, or would you like my hand?”

“Your hand.”

I cup her pussy letting my fingers slip inside her. I’ve been dying to feel her beneath my fingers once again.

“Like this?” I taunt.


“That didn’t sound like any word I know,” I tease. “Now, put your hands behind you.”

Teaser for Bound to You: Volume 4

Here’s a teaser from Bound to You: Volume 4!

*Please note all teasers are unedited & subject to change.

Firm hands fumble with the zipper of my cocktail dress as they help me slip out of the red Parisian fabric that hugs tightly around my curves. I wait with anticipation as Nicholas slides my dress over my hips, letting it fall around me. His fingers loop beneath the strap of my nude laced bra as he unclasps the back and then tugs each strap off with purpose. Nicholas kneels running his lips across my waist. I bite back a moan as he kisses my inner thigh. My fingers thread through his blonde mane as he runs his tongue over the fabric that shields the slit of my sex. Firm teeth bite the top of my panties as he slides them off with his mouth. Stopping once to tease me with his lips.

“So beautiful,” he says.

I gasp as he takes my sex into his mouth. His grip tightens as he slides his tongue darts in and out of me and then slowly slides his tongue across my clit. Warmth fills me as he takes me into his mouth and sucks. He’s unrelenting even as I scream in pleasure. My breath grows ragged as the sensation scorches my skin filling me with an all-consuming desire.

“I love to see your cheeks flush.”

I laugh. “Keep touching me like that you’re going to see more than just my cheeks flush.”

“Oh don’t worry, baby. I’m going to make you cum in my mouth and wrapped around me.”

Nicholas silently pushes me back against the satin bed behind me. He slowly loosens the tie around his neck and then flings it across the room. My sex tightens as primal gaze washes over me. Anticipation builds as he slowly begins to undress taking an article of clothing off one by one. It isn’t until Nicholas is standing in just his boxers that I swallow the lump of desire building in my throat. Fuck. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want his cock inside me. It’s all I’ve been thinking about. Twice we almost had sex while getting lost in Paris trying to find our way to The Louvre.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were staring at my cock.”

I laugh. Somehow, he always manages to make me feel like we’re meeting for the first time all over again. My stomach fills with butterflies as a sexy slow grin appears across his face. Goddamn, this man is beautiful. I’ve managed to convince myself that he must be crazy to want to be with me. I never thought I would fall in love with a playboy heir to a billion dollar publishing company, but here I am. Here we are. Living in a Parisian hotel, drinking champagne every night, and visiting sites I’ve only ever dreamt of.

Nicholas’s mouth collides against my sex again sending all other thoughts flying out the window. He captures my clit in his mouth and nibbles on it. He takes his time lapping up the wetness that grows between the slit of my sex.

My fingers grasp for him as he wedges my legs open sending a streak of desire running up my thighs. A low growl escapes his lips as he plunges two fingers inside of me. I gasp for air and my skin flushes with heat at his touch. His assault begins at a torturously slow pace but quickly builds to a needy dance.

“Say it, baby,” he commands.

A gasp escapes me as his fingers plunge in and out of me. His touch leaves me feverish for more.

“Nick, fuck me.”

I’m alive and…still writing.

Hey lovelies,

I have two upcoming releases! Drawn to You: Volume 3 is going to be release VERY soon. I know you all have been waiting on that one, so thank you so much for your patience! Really, thank you! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying Drawn to You as much or even more than Bound to You. No, I’m not posting a release date for it, so please make sure you sign up for my newsletter so you get an email when it goes live. Yup, I’m keeping it a surprise. I will blast the links via Facebook, Twitter, and my blog as well. 😉

Bound to You: Volume 4 (Nicholas & Rebecca’s wedding story will be released in August, not July like I originally intended). I have a BIG signing that I’m going to at the end of this month and I really under estimated how much time and energy it was going to take to prepare for it. Unfortunately, that cut time out of my rewrites for this volume. It also didn’t help that I needed more time for Drawn to You: Volume 3.

Being a writer and an author has been a big learning curve for me, so I hope you guys forgive me for the delay. I’m definitely not perfect, but I hope the quality of the story outweighs the time people have to wait for them.

After the final volume of Drawn to You  &  Bound to You, I will be taking a break from the Millionaire’s Row Series to work on a full-length novel titled Hollywood Beauty. If you’re a fan of curvy heroines and sexy, but mysterious billionaires then I think you’ll like this one! 🙂 It’s set in Southern California. Pieces of it are set in Hollywood, but a lot of it is set at a mansion in Palm Desert, California. I’ve been plotting out this story for a while now and I’m very anxious to dive in and finish it. It’s set to release in October.

If you haven’t seen it, here is the synopsis:

I am not your characteristic Hollywood beauty. I’ve been a big girl all my life. My family has never let me forget it and Hollywood hasn’t either.
He is not the typical Hollywood heartthrob. Most actors would kill to have his success, but the envy ends there.
Declan Ravencraft is broken…scarred. And according to Hollywood—damaged goods.
I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. His words push me over the edge. His persistence drives me insane. He’s rude, mean, and not anyone I could imagine liking.
And yet, the impossible is happening.
I’m falling, and the question I keep asking myself is—how can someone so beautiful be so ugly inside?

Lastly, the final serial for the Millionaire’s Row Series is called Addicted to You. This story features PR socialite Carol Livingston. She’s Rebecca Gellar’s best friend and many of you met her in Bound to You. Carol is a force to be reckoned with so I think you guys will enjoy reading about the tattooed hunk she falls for. I’m hoping to finish this one in December 2015 and that’s all I can tell you for now. ❤

If you’re interested in getting updates on my work(s) in progress, be sure to follow my Facebook page and my blog. And thank you for being a fan! You guys make writing even more fun.



Summer Lovin’ Reader Party & Giveaway

Hey lovelies,

On June 13th, I will be attending one of my first signings!  The signing is called the Summer Lovin’ Reader Party and it’s being hosted at the South Coast Winery Resort & Spa in Temecula, California.  You can purchase your tickets here: Let’s Party!

The thought of going to any signing is really exciting to me, but I’m especially excited about this one because it’s a chance to get to know fans on a different level. To be honest, that’s something I think a lot about when I sign up to do signings. It’s amazing to know that you touch people’s lives, but I think it would be even more amazing to get to know those same people.

I hope to see some of you guys at The Summer Lovin’ Reader Party. It’s going to be amazing! There’s going to be food, wine, books, and dancing. Basically, we get to party with readers. 😀
I can’t think of a better way to do a signing.
In celebration of the upcoming signing, I’m going to giveaway a $5 Amazon Gift Card! To enter, leave a comment below telling me what would be one thing you would like to ask me in person. I’ll pick a winner on May 26, 2015.

Don’t forget to enter the BIG Summer Lovin’ Reader Party giveaway below! The giveaway starts 5/19/15. There are some really awesome prizes: