Falling for my boss, Damon Dreygon, was never part of the plan. I was meant to seek from him what my boyfriend, Harvey Stark, refused to give me--someone to kiss me, someone to touch me, and maybe even someone to heal my wounds. Instead in Damon, I found a mentor. I found a dark prince minus the charming part. Most importantly, in Damon, I found my voice coupled with my own strength. This was never…
One night. Two futures. Almost three years of repair. Four beating hearts healing from pain. Five lives forever tied.
M . H . B . graduated law from a Canadian University. She loves spending time with her partner and her German Shepherd Dog. She has a passion for animals and enjoys the simple things in life: books, music, chocolate, sunny days, and overall wellness. When she is not writing, her mind is in another world, with a book in hand.
A missed opportunity five years ago makes for an unexpected encounter now between two people meant for each other – but who square off in a very public battle of wills in the small town of Love You, Maine, where every day is Valentine’s Day. Can love conquer all in a town steeped in it? Kell Luview refuses to be a sucker at love again. Five years ago, he left D.C. with his tail between…
Can Kell and Rachel fight their growing attraction in the one place in the world where you can’t avoid love?
If you’re looking for a fun read about enemies to lovers, forced proximity, heroines who get their comeuppance and sworn bachelors felled by unexpected true love, featuring a hot bearded lumberjack impervious to poison ivy, and a city-slicker, jaded career woman with a penchant for great coffee, set in a small town in New England – then this is your book.
Grab a cup of (properly good) coffee, a can of hot cocoa mix, a jar of Fluff and maybe some calamine lotion (just in case), and get your happymeter ready as you read the very first book in New York Times bestselling romantic comedy author Julia Kent’s Love You, Maine series – where love isn’t just a feeling – it’s a way of life.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
Fucking hell, this isn’t the time to be reminiscing. The atmosphere becomes stifling. My breathing labors. I can feel Simone getting closer.
I look across the room and gasp, taking a couple of breaths to get my treacherous heart under control. The bastard betrays me, thumping erratically at the sight of her.
Is it even possible that Simone has gone from beautiful to otherworldly? She ages like fine wine. Yeah, that shit is cliché, but it’s not when it’s true. Her dress hugs every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. My eyes follow the deep v down her chest, showing the swell of her breasts.
I want to run over and shield her from the eyes watching her. Old habits die hard.
Every motherfucker in here can see her.
She’s not yours.
My mouth curves up with an image of her on her knees, my hands fisting her hair as she gags on my cock.
I’m fucking sick.
I shake my head to rid myself of the image.
Our eyes collide. Turmoil brews in their depth. Simone braces herself for my reaction. She drags her eyes across my body, giving it a once-over. My stomach muscles knot like rope at the perusal. There’s no warm embrace. Simone doesn’t run to me, begging for forgiveness.
Trapped in her cage as a socialite, Romy just wants her freedom, but getting caught speeding puts her in danger in more ways than one. The cop’s attention is magnetic, intense, and positively sinful, and being at his mercy might be just what her life needs. When Mike pulls over the pretty girl trying to break the sound barrier, he’s not prepared for her innocence, or just how tempting her vulnerability is. Everything about her…
Trapped in her cage as a socialite, Romy just wants her freedom.
Sometimes attraction is too strong to ignore.
Christine Paige grew up in a small town outside of Spokane, Washington, where she lived on a farm, riding her father’s cattle, before she could convince him into purchasing a pony for her.
After high school she packed her bags and moved to New York City where she was a nanny for a few years, before landing a job at the American Red Cross, then becoming a Paramedic for the FDNY. Her stepmother introduced her to the love of romance novels.
Christine writes in the early morning hours, most of her free time is spent hanging out with her four special needs rescue dogs, or she is out wandering the trails on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Christine considers family, friends, and her critters to be the most important aspect of her life. Gunner’s Girl is Christine’s first novel.
“You ready to do this?” he asks.
“Take the picture.” He heads out of the store and I follow behind him.
“No, next May. Yes, right now.”
“I thought maybe I’d have time to settle into the idea of me in a two-piece plastered all over the Internet.”
He leads us through the open-air mall, past some kids playing in the sprinklers while their parents sip coffee in wrought-iron chairs. “Are we doing this thing or not?”
“We are,” I say.
“Then either you trust me or you don’t.”
“I definitely don’t.”
He comes to a halt and faces me. “Turn around.”
“Just turn around.”
I huff, but I do it.
“Now fall backwards.”
I turn back around and face him. “You are crazy.”
“Don’t look at me. Look straight forward.”
I let out a sigh and then turn away from him again.
“And you’re going to catch me?” I ask in a very doubtful tone.
“Of course I’m gonna catch you. I’m not going to let you fall to the ground and bust your head open.”
“What happens if some pretty girl walks by and you turn your head right when I’m getting ready to fall?”
“I don’t need to look at some pretty girl. I’m looking at you . . . your ass to be specific.”
“See, right away I don’t trust you. My ass isn’t what’s going to fall backward first. It’s my shoulders.”
“I’m watching your whole body.”
Two girls sipping iced coffees pause, watching us. I smile at them and they smile back. “We’re gathering a crowd,” I say through clenched teeth.
“If you would just hurry up and get this over with, we wouldn’t garner so much attention.”
I imagine myself falling backwards and my stomach goes for a loop. “Are you sure you can catch me?”
“Are you kidding? Have you seen me?”
“I know, but I’m a big girl.”
“This is insulting, Taylor. I work out every day. Have you seen me without a shirt on?”
I try to remember if I have, but I’m pretty sure I only have dreamed of his bare chest. “All right, I concede that you can probably catch me.”
“Probably? Come on. Just fall backwards.”
“Because this will do wonders for our relationship. If you can trust me to prevent a brain injury, surely you can trust me with your dating profile.”
“Okay,” I say, fiddling with the bag.
“Give me that,” he says. I pass it back to him and hear it drop on the ground. “Hold your arms out so I can get my arms around you.”
The idea of his arms on my body sends a flock of butterflies through my chest. Now I’m more invested. Because as much as I need to not think about these things, I want to know what his touch feels like. I turn my head. “How far back are you?”
“I’m the perfect amount.”
There are several groups of people watching us now. I cover my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”
“Do you want me to count off?”
“No, I’m going to do it . . . unless you need to count off because you’re looking away or something.”
“He hasn’t looked away from you this whole time,” one of the iced coffee girls says.
“Really?” I ask her.
“Oh yeah,” the other one says. “He is laser-focused on you. I think you can trust him.”
I purse my lips. “If you only knew him you wouldn’t say that.”
“I’d like to get to know him,” her friend says, and then they giggle together.
“Taylor,” Chapman says, and the sound of my name coming from his mouth sends a quiver through my belly.
“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice steady and serious. I close my eyes, my stomach in knots. I let out a breath and I say, “Okay.”
I allow myself to fall, and just when I think I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m going to have a concussion or end up in the hospital, he catches me as those big, capable arms wrap around me.
The groups around us whoop with applause. He sets me up on my feet, and I turn around to face him. He’s smiling at me, genuinely—not one of those cocky smiles like he’s gotten something over on me or that he knows I’m dying for his hot body in my bed and he’s just tempting me with it, but a real smile like we’re friends. “You caught me,” I say, sounding more surprised than I should.
“Of course I caught you.”