Objects of Attraction
The Objects of Attraction
Fiction, Contemporary Romance, Humour
This 6-book collection includes: Book 1: His Banana - My new boss likes rules, but there's one nobody dares to break... No touching his banana. Seriously. The guy is like a potassium addict. Of course, I touched it. If you want to get technical, I actually put it in my mouth. I chewed it up, too... I even swallowed. I know. Bad, bad, girl. Then I saw him, and believe it or not, choking on a guy's banana does not make the best first impression. *His Banana now includes a never-before-published bonus scene to conclude the book.
Book 2: Her Cherry (Top 10 Amazon Bestseller) - How’d I meet her? Well, a gentleman never brags. Thankfully, I’m no gentleman. First, I paid for her cherry (pie, but that’s not the point), Next, I deflowered her. After that? I left my business card and walked out like I owned the place. Yeah, you could say we hit it off. *Her Cherry now includes a never-before-published bonus scene to conclude the book.
Book 3: His Treat (top 10 Amazon Bestseller) - Having a hot boss isn’t complicated or confusing at all, Said no one ever… But all I have to do is resist for a few months. Come January, I’m flying to Paris to chase my dream of being an artist, Too bad I can’t have my treat and eat it, too.
Book 4: His Package (top 10 Amazon Bestseller) - His package ended up inside my box. Calm down, perv. My mailbox. As soon as I saw what was inside, I knew two things: It belonged to my hot neighbor, and he had a dirty secret.
Book 5: Her Secret (top 40 Amazon Bestseller) - I’ll admit it. I messed up. Mistake #1: Asking Peter Barnidge for a job. Mistake #2: Accepting his offer instead of throwing it in his face like I planned. Mistake #3: In the interest of stopping before #99, I’ll pretend the only other mistake was withholding one, tiny little nugget of truth during my interview.
Book 6: Her Bush (top 40 Amazon Bestseller) - Everything went wrong when I trimmed his bush. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m a professional. The client hired me to trim a bush in his garden for a party. I accidentally turned it into something that rhymes with “a big rock and walls”. Imagine my surprise when the art world decides it’s a masterpiece.
Book 7: Grammy's Story (brand new novella only available in this bundle) - She's kept quiet about the story of her first love for years. But when the opportunity to recount every hilarious, graphic detail of their love to William, Hailey, Bruce, and Natasha comes up, she can't resist. Grammy's story is a quick but sweet and funny story about how she met her first love when she was eighteen and had just moved to Manhattan.
If you love hilariously heartfelt stories with just the right amount of swoon and a little dose of ridiculous for good measure, then clear your calendar. Once you dive in, it's going to be days before you come up for air from this bundle. Scroll up and one-click now!
All books revolve around a set of characters that, end up at least, knowing each other and becoming friends.
We start with non-identical identical twins. They are identical in height and immediate appearance, but their characters are quite different as is their clothes and hair styling. But they work together in the media organisation they have built from scratch and have become multi-millionaires. And basically have more money than they know what to do with, as a result, the chaos twin spends it on weird and wonderful projects – but that is his secret skill set – wild and wacky ideas that become money makers.
Book 2 is the OCD twin with a banana fixation and who marries a clumsy journalist; book 2 is the chaos twin with a small case of kleptomania and who marries a baker. Book 3 is the baker’s assistant who takes over her firm and so on.
These are all straight forward rom-com trope stories with lots of humour, light-hearted and easy reading. And there seems to be a fixation with butts…
And I have just read the next book in the series about the OCD twin’s son – and yes there is a banana here too. Same fun style.
Ps the next series also on KU is about the children of these first pairings
An Accidental Royal Kidnap
humour, contemporary fiction, mystery
November 24, 2020
When London schoolteacher George Nearly wakes up one Sunday morning to find a dishevelled young woman sprawled on his living-room rug, claiming to be a princess, his plans for a peaceful day at home recovering from his 39th birthday party disappear faster than a French monarch's head during a revolution. And when the feisty royal accuses George of kidnapping her, his very ordinary life is turned completely upside down, as the party princess takes root in his apartment, causes royal waves among his friends and family, and demands to go walkabout on the streets of London. It's blue-blooded British comedy by unofficial royal appointment in this hilarious, and often surreal, regal romp that's guaranteed to raise a laugh from Balmoral to Buckingham Palace! The first novel in the Royally Funny Books series This very British comedy novel is the first in a series starring reluctant hero George Nearly, the unpredictable Princess Araminta of Essex ('Minty' to her friends) and a host of other quirky characters - all of whom make Mad King George seem like a perfectly sane individual. Royals and commoners collide in these uniquely English adventures that lovers of comedy fiction around the former British Empire and beyond will enjoy. And if you're reading this, Your Majesty ... we guarantee that you will be amused, ma'am!
There’s something about a book character named George. they can be one of 3 things: all somewhat charming in their own way.
a small grubby full of questions and questioning boy;
a scruffy mongrel dog inevitably rolling in whatever smelt the worst;
an Englishman. recognizable by leather elbow patches, cricket flannels too baggy. a domineering mother. a loser group of friends. and a loser girlfriend with a lack lustre love life.
Guess which George we had here. And no, he didn’t wear flannels and elbow patches but close!
Amusing story here as George clearly had no idea what he was about and how to deal with strange arrival in his life. But a happy ending and all was well through a series of amusing episodes. Nicely written and full of expectations fulfilled.
It’s a Curse Thing
(Singles Town, #2)
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Paranormal, Romance
Publication date: April 27th 2021
It’s not forever. It’s not freaking forever.
What’s a witch to do when her magic’s been hacked and her tongue wickedly cursed! No matter how hard Eloise Redd concentrates on keeping her thoughts to herself, she blurts them. The only option is to lie low and wait for the hacker’s ransom note —and hope the demands aren’t too steep. In the meantime, she hides out in a haunted town as a palm reader. What could possibly go wrong reading palms?
Jeffrey Bales, Chief Operating Officer of Think Tank Innovations, is excellent at peopling. What he’s not good at is fending off a multitude of women convinced he’s their souls’ missing puzzle piece. This thanks to the town’s magical palm reader. A woman whose mouth should come with a hazard warning. He has no choice but to turn his charms on her to silence those wayward words. Just a tiny, fake relationship should work…
Unless it takes place under the roof of a bewitched house. One determined to bind them together eternally. That ransom demand can’t arrive soon enough.
What if this is forever?
“Welcome to Hand Picked.” Eloise struck a pose at the top of her stairs and spoke to the gentleman who stood in her doorway, looking very much like a shabby prince with his stiff stance and sexy-as-hell five o’clock shadow. Was he her three o’clock?
If so, she now wished she’d reapplied her Rouge Louboutin Velvet Matte lipstick after her cup of tea. Perhaps living in Knotty would be more than bores and snores after all. A little hot weekend sex would make the months go by faster.
“Thank you,” he said.
About to take a step forward, she paused, left foot dangling above the stair. Hmmm.What do we have here? His voice sounded familiar. She tilted her head to the left and tried to get a look at his profile. Nope. His face, what she could see of it in the shadows, didn’t ring any bells. Perhaps she’d overheard him talking while she’d explored the town last weekend. “Have you come to have your palm read?”
Not waiting for his response, she lifted her floral, floor-length, multi-ruffled skirt and glided down the stairs, aiming to appear like a royal subject entering a magical ball being held in her honor. Not to impress the man. Not much anyway. But mostly because presentation mattered when one read palms for a living. With her skirt, she wore a black long sleeve bodysuit and a headscarf that had beads that dangled over her forehead.
She’d been just as meticulous regarding her appearance when she had practiced law. Only then, instead of every aspect of her projecting flamboyant exuberance, she’d projected the appropriate image of strength and intelligence and the ability to cut your throat in a courtroom without leaving any traces of blood on her Louboutin heels.
At the bottom of the stairs, she got her first shadow-free view of her latest customer. A view that caused her world to tumble and land ass up. Balls. Balls. Balls.
Eloise stood outside Jeff’s house and waited for the lovely old Victorian to welcome her and her cat inside. Charm, the moodiest cat ever, had been MIA ever since she’d been forced to move to Knotty with Eloise.
“Who are you?” the house barked in a voice gruff with age. Not even a hint of the English accent Eloise had expected.
“Eloise Redd, of the Salem Redds. And you are?” Eloise stood straight and unafraid. This was not her first conversation with a house.
“Gwinifer. You may call me Ms. Gwinifer. And the feline?”
Eloise held her cage out in front of her so Gwinifer could get a good look. “Charm. Of the Salem Charms.”
“I’m not particularly fond of cats,” Gwinifer said.
Charm’s back arched. “Hiiiiissssss.”
“Neither am I.” Eloise gave Charm a behave-yourself look and sat the cage on the ground. “But I’m a witch. They’re required. Along with a cauldron, but I left that in the trunk of the car.”
A nose appeared on the front of the house and it sniffed the air around Eloise. “I can’t say I’m fond of witches either.”
“Neither am I. But, as they say, one doesn’t get to pick their birth family.” Was Jeff inside watching her talk to his house? If so, why hadn’t he come outside and made proper introductions, instead of forcing Eloise to announce herself like a commoner? Surely, if the house was talking to her, it had also spoken to Jeff on his move-in day. Who was she kidding? If the guy was skeptical about palm readers, there’s no way he had ever admitted to himself he heard a house talking. He had probably blamed whatever he had heard from Gwinifer on the wind whistling through tree branches and playing tricks on his ears.
She glanced away from the nose and admired the house. She didn’t want Gwinifer to feel rushed into making a decision. A house that felt forced into welcoming a guest could be quite abusive to said guest. Cold showers. Creaking floorboards. Drafty rooms. Dead mouse smells.
On the outside, Gwinifer was a sassy lady. Her colorful eclecticism and intricate excess so fit the town itself. Her facade had an elaborately decorated gable and off to one side, a round tower. Her steeply pitched and complex roof perched like a jaunty hat, giving her further style. It was in the window of her dormer that Eloise got a nod of approval. A wink.
“You’ll do,” Gwinifer said in a haughty tone.
Eloise could practically here the house’s eyes rolling. She smiled and gave a curtsy. “Thank you.”
“Don’t make me regret allowing a witch inside my sanctuary,” Gwinifer snapped. “I have a temper. The last time I got mad at a witch, a tornado took out the town.”
Lisa Wells writes romantic comedy with enough steam to fog your eyeglasses, your brain, and sometimes your Kindle screen. On the other hands, her eighty-year-old mother-in-law has read Lisa’s steamiest book and lived to offer her commentary. Which went something like this: You used words I’ve never heard of…
She lives in Missouri with her husband and slightly-chunky rescue dog. Lisa loves dark chocolate, red wine, and those rare mornings when her skinny jeans fit. Which isn’t often, considering the first two entries on her love-it list.
The Other Prince
(Royal Connections, #1)
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Publication date: April 19th 2021
After moving to London, Amelia Glendale landed her dream job as a lawyer at the Queen’s Charitable Foundation. But when the queen dies, Amelia finds herself working for her longtime royal crush, Prince Leo – and his stuffy older brother Prince Edmund. Charismatic Prince Leo was once known for his hard-partying ways, but has settled down and thrown himself into a life of philanthropy. He’s Amelia’s perfect man and she’s sure they’d get along if she wasn’t too star-struck to speak to him. Prince Edmund has always been the sensible brother and dutiful heir, until a scandal of epic proportions leaves his reputation in tatters. With his comfortable existence disrupted, he sees a chance to build a life and relationship where he is more than just his position. Thrown into the princes’ orbit, Amelia discover that maybe the perfect man for her isn’t the prince she expected. Will Amelia get her fairytale ending, or will the pressures of life in the spotlight be too much to bear? This feel-good romantic comedy about love, friendship and tiaras is perfect for fans of American Royals and The Royal We.
“I know it’s been a long day, but would you like to come back with me for dinner? Lucy and Emma are coming over for a post-trip debrief, and I’m sure they’d like to see you.”
“I’d love to, but I promised Penny I’d have dinner with her. She’ll disown me for sure if I stand her up.”
“Are you sure? Am I going to have to get down on my knees and beg?”
Now that’s an image. How am I meant to say no to that?
“Alright, I’ll come for dinner. But I’m going to have to leave early—eight p.m. at the latest. Don’t let me lose track of time.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Walters is standing squinting out the window as the flight attendant disarms the door. He turns around and walks towards us.
“Excuse me, Your Highness. It seems we have an issue.”
“What’s the matter?”
“There are photographers on the runway. We’ve called airport security, but it may take a while to clear them.”
“Are the cars ready to go outside?”
“In that case, let’s just get to the cars quickly and head out.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes, quite sure. I don’t want to spend an hour waiting for airport security to deal with it.”
“As you wish, sir,” Walters responds. He strides back to the door and nods to the flight attendant who opens the door.
With the door open, Walters walks towards the stairs with Edmund and me following behind.
“What are we having for dinner then? Have you got your chef on standby?”
“I’ll have you know that I don’t have a chef.”
“But you can order food from the kitchens at the other apartments, right?”
“Well, yes, Helena has extra kitchen staff, so they can cater for the rest of us. But that’s not the same as having my own dedicated chef.”
“Oh, of course not, Your Highness. You’re the picture of the everyman. The public would never question the cost of the monarchy again if they knew you were here sharing chefs,” I say, rolling my eyes.
No response. Eddie is frozen at the door with his back to me. Oops, maybe that one went too far.
“Hey, I’m sorry. It was just a joke…”
“It’s not you,” Eddie says stiffly. “It’s them.”
My gaze follows Eddie’s hand as he gestures out the door to the runway. On the ground is a pack of at least forty people with cameras and microphones. There are flashbulbs going off everywhere and photographers and reporters jostling and yelling over each other, trying to get our attention. This is not what I pictured when Walters said there were photographers here.
Watching the scene down on the ground, I try to figure out how so many people got here so fast. Is this what it’s always like when Eddie goes out? There were reporters following us around in Kenya, but it was nothing like this. They were a small group of pre-approved professionals. Something about this pack is far rougher and more volatile.
“What do we do?”
“They’ve already seen us, so I say we keep our heads down and get to the cars as fast as possible. You’d better head back to your flat. If they get photos of us going into KP together, things are going to escalate quickly.”
“Right, of course. Okay, I guess I’ll head home.”
Eddie walks down the steep stairs and I follow, watching my feet and trying to pretend that this is a totally normal experience that I am completely fine with. The facade doesn’t last long.
Halfway down the stairs, the wind dies down and I’m hit by a wall of sound. Everyone on the ground is yelling. Reporters are shouting questions, airport security officers are screaming at the reporters to move back and Walters and the PPOs are urging Eddie and me to move faster and get to the cars. Making my way across the tarmac to the car, I keep my head down and catch bits and pieces of the questions being hurled at Eddie through the chaos.
“Why did you cheat, Edmund?”
“What did Sibella say?”
“Give us a kiss!”
“How long have you been seeing her?”
After what seems like an hour, I make it to the car, and a PPO opens the door and starts pushing me in. As he does, I look up and see a lone reporter with floppy brown hair and tortoise-shell glasses staring at me. Not Eddie, me. “Oi, Amelia! How does it feel to finally catch a prince?” Before he can say anything else, I’m shoved into the backseat and the door slams shut next to me.
“Camden, is it, ma’am?” the driver asks, looking at me in the rear-view mirror.
“We’re headed to an address in Camden?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he says, his eyes softening. “You’ll get used to it.”
The camera cuts to a hotel in central London, with Cyril and Elizabeth’s heads superimposed in at the top of the screen.
“Here we are at the Dorchester Hotel, where Lady Sibella spent her last night as a single woman.”
“Yes, Cyril. As we speak, Lady Sibella and her parents the Duke and Duchess of Chester will be entering their car in the private courtyard at the rear of the hotel. We should be able to catch a glimpse of them any moment now. Ah! Yes, there we are!” Elizabeth says as a dark Rolls Royce appears in view.
“Can we see anything?” Penny asks as we all strain to see through the windows of the car as it drives down the street.
“I think I see full-length sleeves,” Steph says. “And a boat neck?”
“The sleeves are lace,” Penny says, peering at the screen.
From the BBC commentary box, Elizabeth jumps in. “Cyril, I can confirm that we’ve just had word from Lady Sibella’s team that Jenny Packham, a favourite of the royal family, designed her gown. I can’t wait to get an unobstructed view when she arrives at the Abbey in just a few moments now.”
True to Elizabeth’s word, a few minutes later, the Rolls arrives at Westminster and pulls to a stop at the front steps. An aide appears and opens the door to the car, standing by waiting for Sibella to step out.
“What’s going on? Get on with it, love!” the man of the week calls out two minutes later when the palace aide is still dutifully standing and holding the car door open with all occupants still inside.
“I don’t know, she might have to fix her make-up,” I say. But as I do, a hand appears from within the car and pulls the door shut. The Rolls Royce moves, and we all glance at each other in confusion.
“Is she… is she leaving?”
“Oh my god! I think she’s leaving!” shrieks Steph.
The car speeds up, and just like that, it’s out of view. The TV footage then cuts back to the camera in the abbey where Edmund and Leo are standing in the nave, Edmund looking jittery as he keeps glancing down the aisle. Leo nudges Edmund and makes a comment that’s not caught by the microphones before giving Edmund a goofy grin. Edmund smiles tightly back at Leo and seems to relax a fraction.
“They don’t know,” I blurt out. “They don’t know that she’s left. Is Prince Edmund being left at the altar on live TV? Is that what we’re watching here?”
Before anyone can answer, an aide appears on screen, running from the side of the church towards Edmund.
“What’s he doing? Is he going to tell Edmund that she’s gone in front of everyone?” Penny squeals.
But when he reaches Edmund, red-faced and shaking, he says nothing. Instead, he just holds out a phone. Looking confused, Edmund takes the phone. We all watch in silence as Edmund stands at the end of the aisle, in front of two thousand guests and millions of people at home. In an instant, his face crumples. He shakes his head twice, as if in disbelief, and then turns, throws the phone on the ground and storms down the aisle.
The footage cuts back to the BBC commentary team. “Elizabeth, it’s not entirely clear what’s happening right now. There’s no official word from the palace as yet, but it appears that Lady Sibella Cavendish has turned runaway bride.”
Get your copy of The Other Prince by @alicedolmanbooks today ➞ https://amzn.to/3g6Klh7
Isabel Jolie, or Izzy to her friends, is an Amazon bestselling indie author with an unquenchable thirst for a good, sexy love story. Izzy’s heart pumps faster for stories with strong heroines, down-to-earth realism, and an unexpected twist.
When she’s not writing or reading, she can often be found with a glass of wine in hand relaxing with her husband, daughters, and good friends lakeside.
Izzy fills her Instagram feed with funnies, inspirational “brain candy”, and anything that meshes with her mood of the day. #mood.
You know that awkward moment when your lava-hot boss says “marry me?” Not for love. Not for real. Not without a mammoth payoff. Of course, this fortune comes with a ginormous snag—Ward Brandt. Call me bananas. I must be short of a full bushel rejecting Chicago’s finest billionaire. Who knew he was my boss when he crashed my worst date ever? Oh, but he found out. He swore I wasn’t fit for Brandt Ideas, chewed me up, and spat me back out. I vowed I’d prove him wrong—and sabotage a metric ton of his coffee. Then tragedy strikes, upending his limitless ego. Guess who needs an image makeover to shore up the family business. Big fat hell no. King Snarlypants has a peanut-sized heart and a chip on his shoulder bigger than a redwood. Find another sucker, Ward-hole. Even if I agreed, my shields are up. No magnetic kisses. Zero butterflies. Nix the blushing when everyone gushes over what a “perfect couple” we’d be. Then again…it’s just ninety days and mama needs a windfall. What’s one little white wedding lie with a bossy grump built like a god?
Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow returns with a screaming funny romance where two office enemies fake love until they’re all out of make-believe.
Bossy Grump by @nicolesnowbooks is a full-length enemies-to-lovers romance loaded with banter, drama, and so much slow-burn heat you’ll want that Happily Ever After shaken over ice. A storm cloud of a man stuffed into a suit strikes a deal with the girl whose smart mouth drives him to the ultimate madness called love.
When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is check my email.
I’m expecting Miss One Glass to send back some whiny message about how unfair it was for me to bury her under an avalanche of projects.
There’s nothing like that, but a slideshow of the final bid in its current form attached to a blank email with the subject line Done.
It’s incredible how she maintains her scathing sass with a single word.
At the office, Nick stands in front of Miss Holly’s desk, sipping his sugar rush mocha and leering over her. Probably trying to look down her shirt.
Careful, you idiot. This girl knows Illinois employment law by heart. She’ll have your balls stapled to your jacket.
Muttering silently, I stop on the way to my office and my eyes meet hers. “I take it my coffee’s waiting on my desk?”
She looks up and glares a second too long, those green eyes glittering like a jungle cat’s.
“No?” I spit back.
“Shocking espresso shortage. The Bean Bar only had enough left for a mocha and one double shot, and Mrs. Beatrice Nightingale Brandt takes seniority. If I’d waited for them to resupply, I’d have missed your oh-so-important deadline. Mrs. Brandt told me to let you know you could see her if you had a problem with it, though.” She flashes me a murderously triumphant “gotcha” grin.
“The Bean Bar does not run out of espresso,” I snarl through clenched teeth. The coffee shop has its shit together better than anything else in this city—the whole reason we love it and treat ourselves to Chicago’s finest dressed-up caffeine overload a few times every week.
“Sorry. We’re one cuppa joe short, but I figured the project was more important, so…” Holly just smiles and shrugs like a schoolgirl who’s gotten away with cherry-bombing a high school toilet.
The motion sends my eyes lashing down her face to the low cut of her blouse.
For a tortured second, I’m no better than my idiot brother, my eyes glued to a pair of ample tits I’d like to boss around with my tongue, my teeth, my—
Damn her to the moon.
With nothing else to say, I turn around and nearly slam into Nick.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” He greets me with his usual lopsided grin.
“Nowhere, apparently.” I level a glare on him. “Shouldn’t you be in your office working?”
He holds a hand up. “Bro, if you’re jonesing that bad for coffee, I can run down to the bar downstairs and get you an espresso. My treat.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
I need to move it before my humiliation is complete, so I push past him, go to my office, and slam the door shut. Then I remember, I’ve only seen one completed project this morning.
Where’s the other?
I open the frosted glass door and stick my head out. “Where’s the Winthrope comp catalog?”
Miss Holly looks up, twirling her blond hair like spun gold. “I’m working on it now! I can send you what I have. The final should be ready before lunch.” She points to her computer.
My eyes narrow and I fold my arms.
“It was due at eight a.m.”
Nick watches us for a minute and huffs loudly. “Yo, Ward, give her a break. It’s still her first week.”
“No excuse to miss deadlines. She has the credentials and work ethic, when she applies them,” I say.
“Aw, c’mon, the last girl took at least a solid week to make those catalogs,” Nick fires back. “There’s so much crap in them—”
Miss Holly jumps in. “Most of it I’ve been able to copy and paste, which is why I’m done with the North American hotels for comparison. Since Mr. Winthrope is coming by for a check-in this week, I thought the slideshow was more important. I’ll be done with the catalog today, like I said.”
Nick’s eyes trace from Paige—Miss Holly—to me.
Get her the hell out of your head, I demand inwardly. Yes, she’s beautiful, but she’s a wine-sloshing trouble maker with a whip for a tongue. Stop feeding her.
Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.
Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty. With over a million books sold, she lives for the joy of making two people fight with every bit of their soul for a Happily Ever After.
Current fan favorites include her Enguard Protectors series, accidental love novels, plus long beloved MC romance thrillers like the Grizzlies and Deadly Pistols.