#ExcerptReveal Scoring the Billionaire by Max Monroe

 

Scoring the Billionaire
Billionaire Bad Boys #3
Release Date: October 25, 2016
Preorder: http://www.authormaxmonroe.com/books
 

 

Blurb

 
Two love-matches made.
One to go.

Even though two of his best friends have settled down, Wes Lancaster is determined not to get sucked into some siren’s web. As owner of the professional football team the New York Mavericks and wildly successful BAD restaurant, his lifestyle is full as it is.

Well, it was, until Winnie Winslow, the new, sexy, stiletto-wearing Team Physician trash-talks him in the locker room without batting an eye.

Now he can’t stop himself from wanting her.

The only girl in her parents’ brood of five, she’s as outspoken as she is beautiful and the kind of woman who holds her own—and then some.

Always competitive at heart, if he’s going all in for love...
Wes sure as hell wants a Win-Win.

Prepare to get a little dirty because this one might go into overtime.
Game. On.

Disclaimer

In a survey of ten fictional doctors, nine agreed that at the conclusion of this book, you may be in serious danger of having your ovaries explode. Please proceed with caution.

Excerpt Reveal: Marriage Games by CD Reiss

Marriage Games by CD Reiss

Series: Games # 1 Release Date: October 25^th Genre: Contemporary Romance

"Marriage Games is one of the most powerful novels I have ever read. CD Reiss gets into the soul of her hero and heroine and never lets go. A strong, clear picture of the psychological and emotional challenges of a D/s relationship, especially in a marriage. Why it works and why it might not. Can’t wait for the next one." ―Desiree Holt, USA Today bestselling author

Synopsis

THIRTY DAYS That’s all Adam Steinbeck demands of his wife. Thirty days in a remote cottage, doing everything he demands. After that, he’ll sign her divorce papers and give her complete ownership of their company. THIRTY DAYS That’s how long he has to rediscover the man he once was. The Dominant Master he hid when he fell in love with her five years ago. THIRTY DAYS She wants the business they built badly enough to go to the cottage for a month. Cut off ties to the world and do his bidding. She can submit to him with her body, but her heart will never yield. She thinks this is his pathetic attempt to repair their marriage. She’s wrong.

 

Excerpt

“Pull your skirt up.” I said it without acknowledging the possibility that she’d disobey. It felt good to use those words and that tone. To watch her eyes go to the floor. “Trust me.” I said it so low she was just within range to hear it. “Five minutes. Then we don’t have to fight over the car.” I stepped back and set my watch with a beep. It wasn’t about the car for her. The Jag was the least of her worries, but it was a tangible justification. For the downcast eyes. For the way her breathing changed. Maybe every bone in her body was vanilla. Maybe not. “Quit any time,” I said. “Just say the word.” She laid her hands on her hips. Curled her fingers. Gripped fabric. Pulled up her skirt. The tops of her thighs came into view then met at the crotch. I was hard already and made no move to hide it. She noticed and stopped moving the skirt. “Higher,” I said as if telling her how to center a picture over the couch. Higher was where it had to be. It wasn’t a request. Up it went, revealing cotton underwear in a pink so pale they were almost white. “Now what?” she asked. “How do you feel?” “Weird, Adam. Really weird.” “Why?” “Because I’m standing here with my skirt around my waist? Because you told me to? For a car, no less, which is creepy.” She was so honest. I ached for her honesty. “You’re not obeying me for an object. You’re obeying me so I do something. Take an action or don’t.” “You think that’s not weird?” “No, I don’t. And we have four minutes.” I stepped forward. Part of her discomfort was in the physical distance between us. I’d stepped away so she didn’t feel threatened, but my gaze was keeping her from relaxing. I kept my eyes on hers. I could smell her perfume and feel the shortness of her breath. “Are you turned on?” “Sex isn’t going to get me back. I’m sorry—” “Touch yourself.” Her initial shock and offense lasted only a second before she pressed her lips together and reached down, shoulders angling, hand thrusting as if checking to make sure her cunt was still there. We have hundreds of bones in our bodies, and sometimes we won’t acknowledge the preferences of the ones that scare us. “Are you wet?” “A little.” I gripped the edge of the vanity and put my lips near her cheek, millimeters from touching her. “You don’t love me anymore,” I whispered. “But I could always make you wet, and you always came for me. Like our Italy vacation. In Florence. Coming back from that club, in the little alley. Against the wall. I ripped through your underwear.” Her breathing got shallow and fast. “I fucked you in the dark, and when you came, you screamed my name so loud all the lights in the apartments went on.” “That was good.” She turned her face toward mine. When her lips nearly touched me, I pulled away just enough. “I said I wouldn’t touch you.” “I changed my mind.” I wasn’t fooled. Her arousal was talking. I owned her. She’d do whatever I told her. But I wanted something very simple. I wanted her pleasure. “Take the juice from your cunt and rub it on your clit. Make it wet.” “Adam.” “What?” “What’s come over you?” “Do it.” I felt her arm move against me. “Rub back and forth. Be consistent. One-two-one-two.” When I felt that she had it, I stepped back. She stopped. Her knees were bent slightly and her fingers had taken her cunt from the side of the crotch, not the waistband. She never ceased to surprise me. “One-two-one-two, huntress.” “Is this your way of getting back at me?” “One-two-one-two. Let me see you come. You’re so beautiful when you come. You’ve gone this far.” Her body must have been able to override her mind, because she moved her finger again, closing her eyes. Her cheeks reddened and her knees bent more deeply. “In Florence. An hour after we got to the hotel. I came so deep in you that night. I fucked you from behind with your leg up on the dresser. I wanted to thrust my whole body inside you. I loved you that much. And I gave up who I was. Last night, at the club, I remembered what I was. I was a man who was obeyed. I dominated women, and they submitted to me. The result was what you’re about to feel. Complete pleasure.” She let out a long, low groan, leaning on the vanity, twisting. I could have fucked her right then. I could have bent her over the counter and pounded her. But that wasn’t the point. No. Watching her hand move under her clothes because I commanded it. That was the point. An uh escaped her throat. Years of marriage had taught me that meant she was about to come. My watch beeped. “Time’s up,” I said. Her eyes went wide. Her hand stopped. “Thank you,” I said. “We’re done. I’ll send you the title to the car. You might want to pull your skirt down, since I can’t lock the door from the outside.” It was hard to walk away from her panting, bent frame without tasting her cunt or even seeing more of her reaction, but I turned the corner, unlocked the door, and left the bathroom.

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About the Author

CD Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn't pick up, she's at the well, hauling buckets. Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master's degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels. Critics have dubbed the books "poetic," "literary," and "hauntingly atmospheric," which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she's some sort of braggart who's too good to chop a cord of wood. If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

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Release Blitz #giveaway: The Fugly Life by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

HE’S PERFECT FOR HER IN EVERY WAY, 

EXCEPT FOR ONE SMALL ISSUE. 

HE’S TOO LATE.

IT'S A FUGLY LIFE

Fugly #2

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Releasing Oct 11th, 2016

From New York Times Bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff, Comes a New Standalone Contemporary Romance.

HE’S PERFECT FOR HER IN EVERY WAY, EXCEPT FOR ONE SMALL ISSUE. HE’S TOO LATE.

My name is Lily Snow. And I was once the kind of ugly that turned heads and made people stare. The worst part was how I let it ruin my life and destroy my relationship with the love of my life—Maxwell Cole, one of the sexiest, wealthiest, enigmatic men on the planet. All because I felt ugly and certainly not good enough for a man’s love.

But not anymore.

One car wreck, three reconstructive surgeries, and some unexpected money have changed my life.

I’ve started my own company, I’ve finally learned to like myself—not love, but like (hey, it’s a journey)—and I’ve met a wonderful new man who’s helped me put Max in the past where he belongs.

There’s only one problem: After six long months, Maxwell Cole is back, asking for the one thing I can’t give him. And he’s not taking no for an answer.

NOTE: This is a continuation of the story FUGLY, but is a standalone.

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Every part of my body and soul swelled with emotion and disbelief. “You really want to marry me?” I said, trying to get it all straight in my head.

He slid a small black box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.

I was too excited and overwhelmed to actually look at it or make my lips move or get my feet to walk around the counter. I wanted to kiss him and cry and tell him how damned sorry I was for fucking up our relationship.

“Well?” Those hazel eyes drilled into me.

I held up my index finger. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I turned and ran for the back of my little store. I flipped on the bathroom lights and leaned my body over the toilet, feeling the wave of nerves hit me hard.

“Lily?”

I panted, but nothing came out. Breathe, breathe, breathe. The wave passed, and I stood upright. Slowly, I turned my gaze toward the tall, muscularly framed, beautiful man standing in the doorway, with one eyebrow cocked and his thick arms crossed over his broad chest.

“This is not going how I imagined.” He flashed a cocky little smile.

Oh shit. Reply. Reply, stupid! “Yes! Yes. Wait. No!”

“No?” His head jerked back.

Fuck! “I can’t accept your proposal.”

He blinked at me. “This is definitely not how I expected it to go.”

I stepped back an inch, needing to put distance between us in any way possible. He had no idea what I’d been through these last six months. He had no idea how hard it had been to get up every day and not cry or hate myself for what I’d done to him, to us. But I’d finally pulled my life together a few crumbs at a time. I’d…moved on. At least, I was trying.

I tugged down on the hem of my pink sweater and lifted my chin. “I’m sorry,” I said with a firm tone, “but I can’t marry you.”

He stared with a scowl I knew so, so well, reminding me of when he was Mr. Cole, my boss. My hot dickhead of a boss with a very strange secret.

I inhaled deeply. What I had to say next would not please him. Not in the least. But he and I had always been honest with each other. It was the foundation of our relationship and what I loved most about us. Okay, that and the sex.

I swallowed and looked down at my pink flats—yes, they went with my sweater and my pink jeans. Why hadn’t I worn something more serious today? Because saying what I had to say next, dressed like a piece of Pepto, made me feel ridiculous. I needed a black leather jacket or a flame-retardant suit for this.

“I, uh…” I cleared my throat. “I’m engaged already. Well…mostly.” I hadn’t officially said yes to my boyfriend, but I’d intended to.

“What! Who? Who, Lily!” Max yelled.

I cringed, knowing full well he would not understand. With one eye closed and the other squinting, I turned my head to the side, preparing for a giant explosion. Boom! Male ego everywhere.

“Patricio Ferrari?” I eked out.

Max’s face seemed to inflate like a giant angry red balloon. “The fucking actor?” he roared.

It wasn’t a question. Not really. Maxwell Cole knew exactly who Patricio Ferrari was. Nope. They weren’t friends.

“Yes,” I whispered with my eyes closed, “the actor. Who else?”

Max opened his mouth to speak, pointed his finger in my face, and then snapped his mouth shut and looked away. I watched while he repeated the action—open mouth, point, close mouth, look away, open mouth, point, close mouth…

“Max.” I stepped forward and gently grabbed his arm. “Please try to understand. You didn’t want me. You said goodbye.” Or at least that was how it seemed at the time when I’d said something like, “I am so sorry. Please give me another chance.” And he’d said something like, “Thanks for coming by, but I have to meet with my lawyers.”

“But you…” he snarled. “You…Patricio. Really?” He shook his head in disgust.

“Max, I’m sorry, but yes, really. He loves me, and he makes me happy.” Patricio and I cooked dinners together and watched silly movies. We wore stupid hats and rollerbladed at Venice beach. We took off to the mountains and went skiing. I couldn’t remember having so much fun and that was because I never knew how. Not before Patricio. He’d introduced me to a part of myself I needed. And he taught me how to breathe again. His looks weren’t so bad either.

Max ran his hands through his messy dark hair. “Do you fucking love him, Lily?”

I didn’t even need to think about the answer. Yes! Maybe? No, definitely yes. But did I love him like I loved Max, with pure chaotic passion? No. Patricio and I were more like friends, and after having my heart decimated by Max, that made me feel safe. Yes, Patricio was definitely the type of guy I should marry and could grow to love more over time.

“Yes. I love him,” I replied without specifying the type of love. It wasn’t any of Max’s business.

Max’s rapid pulse ticked away on his neck. “How…but…me…but…”

To see such an articulate, opinionated, stubborn-as-hell man like Max fail to find his words tore out my heart.

“Six months,” he growled like a horrible accusation. “Six fucking months!”

“Stop yelling at me,” I snapped. “Not when I could say the same to you, Max. Six months. Where were you?” I hadn’t heard a word since that day I asked him to forgive me, about a month after the accident.

“I was taking care of some very important things.”

“Can you be any vaguer?” I asked.

“What does it matter what I was doing? Because clearly you were keeping yourself occupied.”

Jerkface. Why did he expect me to sit around for half a year like a helpless, lovesick woman? That was not me. I was the type of person who picked herself up after she fell down.

As for Patricio, he was a very intense man who pursued his desires with passion. No different than Max. Ironically, Patricio and I had met at a party in Milan right before Max and I started our relationship. Anyway, Patricio and I had danced at that party and had fun. He didn’t care about my presurgery looks or my fameless status. And a month after my Maxwell-meltdown slash very public breakup, Patricio somehow tracked down my number and asked me out for a drink. I said no at first. And the second and third and fourth times, too. Finally, a few months ago, I felt ready to take a step forward and move on. I accepted. Patricio made it clear on the very first date that he knew Max had broken my heart. “I don’t care if you still love that asshole. I am here, claiming my stake. I want you, Lily. And I know what you’ve been through. I know what you must feel. But I also know what I feel. You,” he’d kissed the top of my hand, “light up my life like no odder.” He’d meant “other” but his Italian accent became exaggerated when he was excited or emotional. “Jess” instead of “yes.” “Chew” instead of “you.” “Hot” instead of “heart.” Jess, Leely. My hot belongs to chew.

I loved it. He had a wild, crazy side, and when he had his breaks from filming, usually in L.A. where he now lived, I enjoyed spending time with him. No, Patricio and I didn’t know each other extremely well, which was why his proposal seemed sudden, but like I said, we were good friends, we had fun, and what woman wouldn’t want a famous, hot, Italian actor as a husband? We were a good match. Max, in comparison, made me feel lost to emotion, vulnerable, and…well, extremely aroused. Stop that.

I lifted my chin. “I’m sorry, Max. But you’re six months too late. I’m marrying him.”

MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF is a USA Today and New York Times bestselling romance author. Although she obtained her MBA and worked for more than fifteen years in the corporate world, she believes that it’s never too late to come out of the romance closet and follow your dream.

Mimi lives with her Latin Lover hubby, two pirates-in-training (their boys), and the rat terrier duo, Snowflake and Mini Me, in Arizona. She hopes to make you laugh when you need it most and continues to pray daily that leather pants will make a big comeback for men

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Release Blitz: Searching for Disaster by Jennifer Probst

 

Today we are celebrating the release for Searching for Disaster by Jennifer Probst. This book is part of the Searching For series and you can buy your copy now! Don't miss out on getting a chance to chat with Jennifer, and some fabulous guest authors, today through October 12th! You can join them HERE.

 

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Searching for Disaster by Jennifer Probst

Searching For series novella

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The next highly anticipated novella in the Searching For series, a romantic spin-off of the Marriage to a Billionaire series from New York Times bestselling sensation Jennifer Probst.

When Isabella MacKenzie tries to move on from her disastrous past, Officer William Devine is determined to show her that love is the only way to heal. This sexy enovella, the final installment in Jennifer Probst’s heartwarming Searching For series, follows the high-powered women of the popular matchmaking agency Kinnections, located in the small, picturesque town of Verily, NY.

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AUTHOR INFORMATION

Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again. She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean. She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon's Best Books for 2012. She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at www.jenniferprobst.com.

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Release Blitz #giveaway: Immortal Envy by A.D. Justice

Title: Immortal Envy

Series: Immortal Obsession #1

Author: A.D. Justice

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Release Date: October 10, 2016

Blurb

Two brothers.
Best friends.
Immortals.
One woman – the subject of their mutual obsession, but for very different reasons.
The end result will change the New York City vampire clan forever. Immortals can hold a grudge for a very long time. 

Constant craving . . . immortal obsession.

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Author Bio

A.D. Justice is the USA Today bestselling author of the Steele Security Series (Wicked Games, Wicked Ties, Wicked Nights, Wicked Intentions), the Crazy Series (Crazy Maybe, Crazy Baby), the Dominic Powers series (Her Dom, Her Dom's Lesson), and Intent, a standalone novel.

When she's not writing, she's spending time with her own alpha male character in their north Georgia mountain home. She is also an avid reader of romance novels, a master at procrastination, a chocolate sommelier, a twister of words, and speaks fluent sarcasm.

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Blog Tour #review: Touching Down by Nicole Williams

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The whole world might be in love with him. But all he’s ever loved is her.


Grant Turner’s name is synonymous with football. The fans and media can’t get enough of the player known as The Invincible Man, a nickname he earned while growing up in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the country and the nickname he’s kept by being one of the best players in professional football today. No one can take him down. He’s unstoppable.
​
But even a suit of armor has its weak point, and Grant’s has always been Ryan Hale.
They were a couple of kids when they fell in love, and just when it looked like the happy ending neither expected was within reach, Ryan disappeared. No explanations. No good-byes.

Grant coped by throwing himself into the game for seven years, and he’s finally moved on. Or so he thinks.

When she walks back into his life, all of those feelings come crashing back, despite the warnings in his head that tell him she’ll leave him again. Grant can withstand the league’s toughest defensive line, but he’s always been weak where she’s concerned.

No man can take Grant Turner down.

But one woman certainly can.

One woman will.

“How many men after me?” His forehead creased as he asked his question, setting down his fork.
​His question surprised me. “What?”
​“How many men have you been with since you were with me?”
​I swallowed the bite of onion ring and set down what was left of it. Wolfing down fried food didn’t pair well with this type of conversation. “Like how many guys have I dated? Had as boyfriends?” My weight shifted on the counter stool I was situated on. “Had sex with?”
​Grant’s jaw tensed, but he relaxed it right after. He answered me by lifting a shoulder.  
​The longer I took to answer, the more he looked like he was bracing himself for a full-on dissertation. Little did he know my answer to his questions could be summed up in one breath.
​“I haven’t had any boyfriends since you,” I admitted, feeling kind of silly admitting it. At the same time, I felt strong. I’d never felt the need to fill a void in my life with a man. I’d never needed a man to define me. What Grant and I had had was special, and what we’d created together was even more special. I wasn’t about to let some shmuck looking to get a little piece of ass cheapen my whole experience with relationships.
​The corners of Grant’s mouth were twitching, but he didn’t let the smile form. “What about dates?”
​I leaned toward him. “Same story.”
​He let the smile form then.
​“And I thought we’d agreed to move on from the dating topic earlier tonight.” Giving him the look didn’t faze him—it never really had. Even my most impressive Look.
​“Fine. No more talk about dating.” He lifted his hands in the air and pretended like he was getting back to finishing up the last few remnants of our gluttonous feast. When he just kept twirling the same fry in a gob of ketchup, I knew he hadn’t moved on yet. “How many have you had sex with?”
​“Grant . . .”
​“I need to know, Ryan. I know I don’t have any right to know. I also know you had a right to sleep with whoever you wanted.” He paused, his face looking like he was being tortured. “I just need to know.”
​My lungs felt like limp bags when I thought about answering his question. Not because I was embarrassed or ashamed or anything like that, but because he’d know once I told him. He’d know the reason why, and he’d know he was that reason why.
​He’d know I’d never really moved on from him, and I couldn’t have him knowing that because I needed to keep a careful distance between us. I needed to protect him, not from himself this time, but from me.
​But even though I knew all of that, I also knew that the truth had never been optional when it came to Grant and me. Never a choice. The truth wasn’t what we picked when it was convenient. It had been the standard from the beginning, and if I had anything to do with it, it would remain the standard to the end.
​The truth. I’d told him almost everything I had to. Almost. The one last thing I was withholding would have to come out soon.
​“You were the first person I had sex with, Grant Turner.”
​He slowly twisted toward me, his legs spreading wide, tucking around the outsides of mine. His hands lowered to my kneecaps, like he was trying to show me that no matter how I answered, he still wanted to be here with me—eating greasy food in an old diner that had already locked its doors.
​One of my hands covered one of his. “And you were the last person I had sex with too.” It came out in one long exhale, my fingers braiding tighter through his with each word.
​He was quiet for a minute. And then another. When his silence continued, my eyes lifted to see what was the matter.
​His forehead was folded in half a dozen creases, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you saying . . .?” He leaned in closer, confusion settling deeper.
​“You’re the last person I had sex with.” I thought I’d spelled it out pretty solidly before.
​His face ironed out, blinking like he was just waking up. “Does that mean . . .?”
​I sighed. “I haven’t had sex in seven years? Yeah. That’s what it means.”
Glancing behind the counter, I made sure the owner and cook, who’d generously agreed to let us stay late, were still way in the back and preoccupied with something other than the conversation happening at the two end counter stools.
​Grant leaned closer, his head moving just outside of mine. His breath was just rushed enough to notice. “Are you saying I’m the last man you’ve had inside you?”
​His words surprised me, sending a shiver winding down my spine. I didn’t want him to know that his question or his proximity or his labored breaths were affecting me, but they were. I was feeling very, very affected in certain locations of my body.
​“I think that’s the general definition of sex, yeah,” I answered, glancing down to make sure nothing too obvious was showing through the thin material of the dress. Thank god I’d gone with the thicker lined bra, because Grant’s eyes followed mine a moment later.
​When my gaze dropped to a certain spot on his body, I found his own arousal not so easily disguised. It made the inhale I’d been taking sound more like more of a gasp than a breath. He knew what I was looking at, he knew what was on display, and he didn’t do anything to adjust or hide it. He wanted me to know. He wanted me to see.
​Realizing that sent a rush of pleasure through my body, pooling between my legs.
​“I’m going to kiss you, Ryan.” His head nuzzled my neck. “I should probably ask permission, but fuck, I don’t want to, because I have to kiss you. Whether you think it’s a good idea or not.”
​My arms went limp, my legs following, from the sickness I had for this man. The one that crippled me. The one that paralyzed me. My eyes squeezed closed when his face came around in front of mine. “You don’t want to kiss me, Grant.”
​He pulled me closer. “Like hell I don’t.”

Review 

 
This beautiful, touching story reads like a love letter. A love letter two young kids started when they met and due to their circumstances became each other's hero.
Ryan left Grant without a reason and obviously he's hurt and can't really understand why she did that. But after seven long years Ryan and Grant are in each other's lives again, under the same roof, saying goodbye to the woman that helped them survived the hell in which they lived as kids. They are big secrets to be revealed, lots of explanations to be given, but perhaps the deep connection of these two souls would be enough to keep the love they once felt for each other, the love that never went away, burning.
WOW! That's all I have to say about this book. The author did an incredible job bringing the journey of Ryan and Grant to life, it is sweet, it is romantic, it is cruel (because life is not always sunshine and butterflies,) is full of determination, and it is a love story, the one you hear older people talking about, the one you feel all the way to your soul.
My heart was invested in this story from the get go, these characters had such a profound connection, sublime almost. I felt their pain, their struggles, and fought their battles alongside them.
This is without a doubt one of the best books I've read this year, one that undeniably I'll be re-reading again soon.
Please #OneClick this beauty, I promise you won't regret it.
5 stars are a disservice to this book and its author.

Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

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