Related to: 'The Girl Most Likely To...'

January Book of the Month

Wanted. You Loved Damien Stark. Now Meet Evan Black.

I know exactly when my life shifted. That precise instant when his eyes met mine and I no longer saw the bland look of familiarity, but danger and fire, lust and hunger. Perhaps I should have turned away. Perhaps I should have run. I didn't. I wanted him. More, I needed him. The man, and the fire that he ignited inside of me. And in his eyes, I saw that he needed me, too. That was the moment that everything changed. Me, most of all. But whether it changed for good or for ill . . . well, that remains to be seen. Even dead, my Uncle Jahn knew how to throw one hell of a party. His Chicago lakeside penthouse was bursting at the seams with an eclectic collection of mourners, most of whom had imbibed so much wine from the famous Howard Jahn cellar that whatever melancholy they’d brought with them had been sweetly erased, and now this wake or reception or whatever the hell you wanted to call it wasn’t the least bit somber. Politicians mingled with financiers mingled with artists and academics, and everyone was smiling and laughing and toasting the deceased. At his request, there’d been no formal funeral. Just this gathering of friends and family, food and drink, music and mirth. Jahn - he hated the name Howard - had lived a vibrant life, and that was never more obvious than now in his death. I missed him so damn much, but I hadn’t cried. Hadn’t screamed and ranted. Hadn’t done anything, really, except move through the days and nights lost in a haze of emotions, my mind numb. My body anesthetized. I sighed and fingered the charm on my silver bracelet. He’d presented me with the tiny motorcycle just over a month ago, and the gift had made me smile. I hadn’t talked about wanting to ride a motorcycle since before I turned sixteen. And it had been years since I’d ridden behind a boy, my arms tight around his waist and my hair blowing in the wind. But Uncle Jahn knew me better than anyone. He saw past the princess to the girl hidden inside. A girl who’d built up walls out of necessity, but still desperately wanted to break free. Who longed to slip on a pair of well-worn jeans, grab a battered leather jacket, and go a little wild. Sometimes, she even did. And sometimes it didn’t end right at all. I tightened my grip on the charm as the memory of Jahn holding my hand - of him promising to keep my secrets - swept over me, finally bringing tears to my eyes. He should be beside me, dammit, and the swell of laughter and conversation that filled the room was making me a little sick. Despite the fact that I knew Jahn wanted it that way, it was all I could do not to smack all the people who’d hugged me and murmured softly that he was in a better place and wasn’t it wonderful that he’d lived such a full life. That was such bullshit - he hadn’t even turned sixty yet. Vibrant men in their fifties shouldn’t drop dead from aneurysms, and there weren’t enough pithy Hallmark quotes in the universe to make me think otherwise. Antsy, I shifted my weight from foot to foot. There was a bar set up on the other side of the room, and I’d positioned myself as far away as physically possible because right then I wanted the burn of tequila. Wanted to let go, to explode through the numbness that clung to me like a cocoon. To run. To feel. But that wasn’t going to happen. No alcohol was passing these lips tonight. I was Jahn’s niece, after all, and that made me some kind of hostess-by-default, which meant I was stuck in the penthouse. Four thousand square feet, but I swear I could feel the art-covered walls pressing in around me. I wanted to race up the spiral staircase to the rooftop patio, then leap over the balcony into the darkening sky. I wanted to take flight over Lake Michigan and the whole world. I wanted to break things and scream and rant and curse this damned universe that took away a good man. Shit. I sucked in a breath and looked down at the exquisite ancient-looking notebook inside the glass and chrome display case I’d been leaning against. The leather-bound book was an exceptionally well-done copy of a recently discovered Da Vinci notebook. Dubbed the Creature Notebook, it had sixteen pages of animal studies and was open to the center, revealing a stunning sketch the young master had drawn - his study for the famous, but never located, dragon shield. Jahn had attempted to acquire the notebook, and I remember just how angry he’d been when he’d lost out to Victor Neely, another Chicago businessman with a private collection that rivaled my uncle’s. At the time, I’d just started at Northwestern with a major in poli sci and a minor in art history. I’m not particularly talented, but I’ve sketched my whole life, and I’ve been fascinated with art - and in particular with Leonardo da Vinci - since my parents took me to my first museum at the age of three. I thought the Creature Notebook was beyond cool, and I’d been irritated on Jahn’s behalf when he not only lost out on it, but when the press had poured salt in the wound by prattling on about Neely’s amazing new acquisition. About a year later, Jahn showed me the facsimile, bright and shiny in the custom-made display case. As a general rule, my uncle never owned a copy. If he couldn’t have the original - be it a Rembrandt or a Rauschenberg or a Da Vinci - he simply moved on. When I’d asked why he’d made an exception for the Creature Notebook, he shrugged and told me that the images were at least as interesting as the provenance. “Besides, anyone who can successfully copy a Da Vinci has created a masterpiece himself.” Despite the fact that it wasn’t authentic, the notebook was my favorite of Jahn’s many manuscripts and artifacts, and now, standing with my hands pressed to the glass, I felt as if he was, in some small way, beside me. I drew in a breath, knowing I had to get my act together, if for no other reason than the more wrecked I looked, the more guests would try to cheer me. Not that I looked particularly wrecked. When you grow up as Angelina Hayden Raine, with a United States senator for a father and a mother who served on the board of over a dozen international nonprofit organizations, you learn the difference between a public and a private face very early on. Especially when you have your own secrets to keep. “This is so goddamn fucked up it makes me want to scream.” I felt a whisper of a smile touch my lips and turned around to find myself looking into Kat’s bloodshot eyes. “Oh, hell, Angie,” she said. “He shouldn’t be dead.” “He’d be pissed if he knew you’d been crying,” I said, blinking away the last of my own tears. “Fuck that.” I almost laughed. Katrina Laron had a talent for cutting straight through the bullshit. I’m not sure which one of us leaned in first, but we caught each other in a bone-crushing hug. With a sniffle, I finally pulled away. Perverse, maybe, but just knowing that someone else was acknowledging the utter horror of the situation made me feel infinitesimally better. “Every time I turn a corner, I feel like I’m going to see him,” I said. “I almost wish I’d stayed in my old place.” I’d moved in four months ago when Uncle Jahn’s aneurysm was discovered. I’d taken time off from work - easy when you work for your uncle. For two weeks I’d played nurse after he came home from the hospital, and when he’d been given the allclear by the doctors - yeah, like that was a good call - I’d accepted his invitation to move in permanently. Why not? The tiny apartment I’d shared with my lifelong friend Flynn wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury. And although I loved Flynn, he wasn’t the easiest person to cohabitate with. He knew me too well, and it always made me uneasy when people saw what I wanted to keep hidden. Now, though, I craved both the cocoon-like comfort of my tiny room and Flynn’s steady presence. As much as I loved the condo, without my uncle, it was cold and hollow, and just being in it made me feel brittle. As if at any moment I would shatter into a million pieces. Kat’s eyes were warm and understanding. “I know. But he loved having you here. God knows why,” she added with a quirky grin. “You’re nothing but trouble.” I rolled my eyes. At twenty-seven, Katrina Laron was only four years older than me, but that didn’t stop her from pulling the older-and-wiser card whenever she got the chance. The fact that we’d become friends under decidedly dodgy circumstances probably played a role, too. She’d been working at one of the coffee shops in Evanston where I used to mainline caffeine during my first year at Northwestern. We’d chatted a couple of times in an “extra cream please, it’s been a bitch of a day” kind of way, but we were hardly on a first-name basis. All that changed when we bumped into each other on a day when extra cream wasn’t going to cut it for me - not by a long shot. It was in the Michigan Avenue Neiman Marcus and I’d been surfing on adrenaline, using it to soothe the rough edges of a particularly crappy day. Specifically, I’d just succumbed to my personal demons and surreptitiously dropped a pair of fifteen-dollar clearance earrings into my purse. But, apparently, not as surreptitiously as I’d thought. “Well, aren’t you the stumbling amateur?” she’d whispered, as she steered me toward women’s shoes. “With a shit technique like that, it’s a wonder you haven’t been arrested yet.” “Arrested!” I squeaked, as if that word would carry all the way to Washington and to my father’s all-hearing ears. The fear of getting caught might be part of the excitement. Actually getting caught wasn’t a good thing at all. “No, I didn’t- I mean-” She cut off my protests with a casual flip of her hand. “All I’m saying is be smart. If you’re going to take a risk, at least make it worth the trouble. Those earrings? Really not the bomb.” “It’s not about the earrings,” I’d snapped, then immediately cringed. The words had been a knee-jerk response, but they were also true. It wasn’t about the earrings. It was about my dad, and the grad school lectures and the career-planning talks, and the never-spoken certainty that no matter what I did, my sister would have done it better. It was about the oppressive, overwhelming weight of my life and my future that was bearing down on me, harder and harder until I was certain that if I didn’t do something to break out a little I’d spontaneously combust. Kat had glanced at my purse as if she could see through the soft Coach leather to the contraband inside. Then she slowly lifted her eyes back to my face. The silence hung between us for a full minute. Then she nodded. “Don’t worry. I get it.” She cocked her head toward the exit. “Come on.” Relief flooded through me, and my limbs that had frozen in both fear and mortification began to thaw. She steered me to her car, a cherry-red Mustang that she drove at more or less the speed of light. She careened down Michigan Avenue, maneuvered her way onto Lake Shore Drive, and came so close to the other cars as she zipped in and out of traffic that I’m surprised her convertible didn’t lose a layer of paint. In other words, it was freaking awesome. The top was down, the wind was whipping my hair into my face and mouth, and all I could do was tilt my head back and laugh. Kat risked our lives long enough to shoot me one sideways glance. “Yeah,” she said. “We’re going to get along just fine.” From that moment on, I’d adored Kat. Now, with Jahn’s death sending my universe reeling, I realized that I not only loved her - I relied on her. “I’m really glad you’re here,” I said. “Where else would I be?” She scanned the room. “Are your mom and dad around somewhere?” “They can’t make it. They’re stuck overseas.” The familiar numbness settled over me again as I remembered my mother’s hysterical sobs and the deep well of sorrow that had filled my father’s voice when he’d learned about his half-brother. “I hated calling them,” I whispered. “It felt like Gracie all over again.” “I’m so sorry.” Kat had never met my sister, but she’d heard the story. The public version, anyway, and I knew her sympathy was real. I managed a wavering smile. “I know. That means a lot to me.” “The whole thing sucks,” Kat said. “It’s so unfair. Your uncle was too damn cool to die.” “I guess the universe doesn’t give a shit about coolness.” “The universe can be a raving bitch sometimes,” Kat said. She exhaled loudly. “Want me to crash here tonight so you won’t be alone? We could stay up late getting so wasted that there’s no way in hell either one of us will dream.” “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.” She eyed me uncertainly. She was one of the few people I’d confided in about my nightmares, and while I appreciated the sympathy, sometimes I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. “Really,” I said earnestly. “Kevin’s here.” “Oh, yeah? And how’s that going? Engaged yet?” “Not quite,” I said wryly. I supposed we were dating since I’d slept with him twice, but so far I’d dodged the let’s-be-exclusive conversation. I wasn’t sure why I was so reticent. The sex wasn’t mind-blowing, but it did the job. And I did genuinely like the guy. But I’d spent the last few months holding him at arm’s length, telling him I needed to keep my attention on Jahn’s surgery, then his recovery. Obviously, I hadn’t planned on his sudden death. How horrible was it of me to think that now Jahn was gone, I had no more excuses to hand Kevin? Beside me, Kat craned her neck and scoped out the crowd. “So where is he?” “He had to go take a call. Technically, he’s working today.” “What are you going to do now?” Kat asked. “About Kevin?” Honestly, I was hoping to avoid doing anything on that front for the foreseeable future. “About your job,” she countered. “About the roof over your head. About your life. Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” “Oh.” My shoulders sagged. “No. Not really.” My job in the PR department of Jahn’s company might pay my bills, but it was hardly my life’s ambition, and Kat was one of the few people to whom I’d confessed that deep, dark secret. Right then, however, that wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. Fortunately, something across the room had caught Kat’s attention, effectively erasing my lack of direction and purpose from her mind. She stood slightly straighter and the corners of her mouth tilted a bit, almost hinting at a smile. Curious, I turned to look in that direction, but saw nothing but suits and dresses and a sea of black. “What is it? Kevin?” I asked, praying he wasn’t heading our direction. “Cole August,” she said. “At least I thought I saw him.” “Oh.” I licked my lips. My mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Is Evan with him?” I forced my voice to sound casual, but my pulse was racing. If Cole was around, it was always a good bet that Evan was, too. Then I remembered what day it was and my pulse slowed as disappointment weighed down on me. “Isn’t tonight the ribbon-cutting for the hospital wing Evan funded?” Kat didn’t even spare me a glance, her eyes still searching the crowd. “Not sure.” She shot me a quick look. “Yeah, it was. You invited me before, you know, all of this happened.” I blinked back the sudden prick of tears. “Evan’s going to hate missing this. Jahn was like a dad to him.” Beside me, Kat took a quick step backward, startling me. “What is it?” She dragged her gaze away from the crowd, then frowned at me. “I . . . Oh, shit. I have to go make a call. I’ll be right back, okay?” “Um, okay.” Who the hell did she need to call right now? That wasn’t a question I pondered for long, though, because I’d caught a glimpse of Cole. And right beside him - looking like he owned the world and everything in it - was Evan. Immediately, my chest tightened and a current of electricity zinged across my skin. Technically, I saw him first, but it was my body’s reaction that caught my attention. Only after I felt him did I truly see him. And what a sight he was. Whereas Cole might be sex on wheels, Evan Black was the slow burn of sin and seduction - and tonight he was in rare form. He must have come straight from the hospital, because he was still in a tux, and although he was clearly overdressed, he appeared perfectly at ease. Whether in a tux or jeans, where Evan was concerned, it was the man that mattered, not the garment. He had the kind of chiseled good looks that would have gotten him plucked from obscurity in the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the kind of confidence and bearing that would have made him a box-office draw. A small scar intersected his left brow, giving the angel’s face a hint of the devil. He both came from money and had made his own fortune, and it showed in the way he held himself, the way he looked around a room, managing to take control of it with nothing more than a glance. His eyes were as gray as a wolf’s and his hair was the color of cherrywood, a deep brown that hinted at golds and reds when the light hit it just right. He wore it long in the back so that it brushed his collar, and the natural waves gave it the quality of a mane - which only enhanced the impression that there was a wildness clinging to the man. Wild or not, I wanted to get close. I wanted to thrust my fingers into his hair and feel the locks on my skin. I imagined his hair was soft, but that’s the only part of him that was. Everything else was edged with steel, the hard planes of his face and body hinting at a dangerous core beneath that beauty. I didn’t know whether the danger was real or an illusion. And right then, I didn’t care. I wanted the touch, the thrill. That desperate need to fly I’d been feeling all night? So help me, I wanted to fly right into Evan’s arms. I needed the rush. I craved the thrill. I wanted the man. And it was just too damn bad that he didn’t want me, too.

Headline Eternal

The Kept Woman

Susan Donovan
Authors:
Susan Donovan
Headline Eternal

He Loves Lucy

Susan Donovan
Authors:
Susan Donovan

Fans of Jill Shalvis, Rachel Gibson, Susan Andersen and Carly Phillips will be bowled over by this fabulously funny and sexy romance from New York Times bestseller Susan Donovan, author of The Girl Most Likely To... and The Kept Woman. Marketing exec Lucy Cunningham is thrilled when her firm wins Miami's hottest fitness club. The reality TV show was Lucy's idea: leave a fitness-challenged woman in the hands of top personal trainer, Theo Redmond, with a cash bonus for every pound shed. But Lucy didn't expect to be the guinea pig...After one meeting, Theo knows Lucy will be his toughest client yet, and a woman he'll never forget. Smart-mouthed and stubborn, she rises to the challenge like a pro. And before he knows it, his heart's in jeopardy.As Lucy works her way into a whole new life, things start to heat up. Lucy and Theo are about to discover that appearances can be deceiving - and that true love lies somewhere between pizza and Pilates...Don't miss Susan Donovan's sublime Bayberry Island series. In Sea of Love, The Sweetest Summer and Moondance Beach, escape to a special island where, legend has it, a bronze mermaid statue grants true love...

Headline Eternal

Moondance Beach: Bayberry Island Book 3

Susan Donovan
Authors:
Susan Donovan

New York Times bestselling author Susan Donovan welcomes you to Bayberry Island, a special place where a bronze mermaid statue promises to grant true love to anyone with an open heart... Perfect for fans of Susan Elizabeth Phillips, JoAnn Ross and Jill Shalvis.Duncan Flynn said goodbye to his hometown of Bayberry Island a long time ago. So when the injured Navy SEAL is sent home - just in time for the annual Mermaid Festival - he's in no mood to celebrate. Let alone fall in love. Duncan has always ignored the island myth, until one night he spots a magnificent woman emerging from the ocean who bears an uncanny resemblance to the legendary statue.Adelena Silva's mermaid paintings may have made her famous, but Lena herself is a recluse - at least until Duncan returns home. She's secretly loved him her whole life, and now he's back she's determined he won't be the one that got away. Will the truth she's harboured for so long, along with a little island magic, win his heart?Don't miss more enchanting Bayberry Island romance with Rowan's story in Sea of Love and Clancy's story in The Sweetest Summer.

Headline Eternal

The Sweetest Summer: Bayberry Island Book 2

Susan Donovan
Authors:
Susan Donovan

New York Times bestselling author Susan Donovan returns to Bayberry Island, where a bronze mermaid statue could be the cause of heartbreak or everlasting romance for a practical-minded police chief and his first love. Perfect for fans of Susan Elizabeth Phillips, JoAnn Ross and Jill Shalvis.Every instinct tells Police Chief Clancy Flynn that his island's claim to fame is nothing but a silly tourist attraction. Still, he can't help but wonder if his lifetime of bad romances - starting with the pretty tourist who broke his twelve-year-old heart - could be traced back to a childhood prank involving that very statue...Then one day the pretty tourist comes barrelling back into Bayberry - all grown-up and on the run with her niece. Though Evelyn McGuinness is wanted for kidnapping, she tries to persuade Clancy that there's more to the story. Now the by-the-book police chief must make the toughest decision of his life: to take Evelyn into custody - or into his arms...Don't miss more irresistible Bayberry Island romance with Rowan's story in Sea of Love and Duncan's story in Moondance Beach.

Headline Eternal

Sea of Love: Bayberry Island Book 1

Susan Donovan
Authors:
Susan Donovan

New York Times bestselling author Susan Donovan welcomes you to Bayberry Island, a special place where a bronze mermaid statue promises to grant true love to anyone who asks with an open heart... Perfect for fans of Susan Elizabeth Phillips, JoAnn Ross and Jill Shalvis.Rowan Flynn was happy to leave Bayberry Island when she was whisked away by her investor fiancé. But when he loses what's left of her family's fortune and is exposed as a con man, Rowan reluctantly returns to run the Safe Haven Bed and Breakfast, determined never again to fall for the ridiculous fantasy of the mermaid matchmaker.But when a handsome stranger arrives at the B&B the night before the annual Mermaid Festival, Rowan's life takes a turn for the interesting. Could it be the divine hand of the town's patroness? Or is Rowan being set up for another disappointment?Don't miss more irresistible Bayberry Island romance with Clancy's story in The Sweetest Summer and Duncan's story in Moondance Beach.

Beth Kery

Beth Kery is the New York Times ebook bestselling author of Because You Are Mine and recipient of the All About Romance Reader Poll for Best Erotica. Beth lives in Chicago where she juggles the demands of her career, her love of the city and the arts, and a busy family life. Her writing today reflects her passion for all of the above. She is a bestselling author of over thirty books and novellas, and has also written under the pen name Bethany Kane.You can read more about Beth, her books and upcoming projects at www.bethkery.com, discover her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/beth.kery, or follow her on Twitter @BethKery.

Harper Sloan

Harper Sloan is the New York Times bestselling author of the Corps Security and Hope Town series. She started using writing as a way to unwind when the house went to sleep at night. Harper lives in Georgia with her family. Visit her at AuthorHarperSloan.com, on Facebook /HarperSloanBooks or on Twitter @HarperSloan.

J. Kenner

J. Kenner loves wine, dark chocolate, and books. She lives in Texas with her husband and daughters. Visit her online at www.jkenner.com to learn more about her and her other pen names, to get a peek at what she's working on, and to connect through social media.

Jeanette Grey

Jeanette Grey started out with degrees in physics and painting, which she dutifully applied to stunted careers in teaching, technical support and advertising. Almost all of her stories include hints of either science or art. When she isn't writing, Jeanette enjoys making pottery, playing board games, and spending time with her husband and her pet frog. She lives, loves, and writes in upstate New York. Find her online at www.jeanettegrey.com, on Twitter @jeanettelgrey and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jeanettelgrey.

Jill Shalvis

New York Times bestseller Jill Shalvis is the author of many romance novels including her acclaimed Cedar Ridge, Lucky Harbor and Animal Magnetism series. The RITA winner and three-time National Readers Choice winner makes her home near Lake Tahoe. Visit her website at www.jillshalvis.com for a complete book list and daily blog, and www.facebook.com/jillshalvis for other news or follow her on Twitter @jillshalvis.

Karina Halle

Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and the USA Today Bestselling author of Love, in English, The Artists Trilogy, and other wild and romantic reads. She lives in a 1920s farmhouse on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books.To find out more about Karina and her unmissable reads, visit www.authorkarinahalle.com, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter @MetalBlonde.

Kate Baxter

Kate Baxter is a die-hard romantic with a thing for Shakespeare. She lives in the great northwest where she hides away to write about all things fanged, furry and undead.Find out more about Kate by visiting www.authorkatebaxter.blogspot.co.uk, and connect with her on Twitter @KateBaxterAuthor, and Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorKateBaxter.

Katie Reus

Katie Reus fell in love with romance at a young age thanks to books she'd pilfered from her mom's stash. After changing majors too many times to count, she finally graduated with a degree in psychology. She now spends her days writing dark paranormal romance. She currently lives near Biloxi, Mississippi, with her family. When she's not creating stories she can usually be found spending time with her family or one of the many eclectic animals they've adopted over the years.Find out more about Katie by visiting www.katiereus.com, connect with her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/katiereusauthor and Twitter @katiereus.

Kelly Rimmer

Kelly Rimmer is the USA Today bestselling women's fiction author of six novels, including Before I Let You Go and Me Without You. She lives in rural Australia with her husband, two children and fantastically naughty dogs, Sully and Basil. Her novels have been translated into more than twenty languages.

Laura Griffin

Laura Griffin is the New York Times bestselling author of more than twenty books. She is a two-time RITA Award winner as well as the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award. Laura got her start in journalism before venturing into the world of romance fiction. She lives in Austin, Texas, where she is working on her next novel. Visit her website at www.lauragriffin.com and find her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LauraGriffinAuthor and Twitter @Laura_GriffTo hear about new releases, sign up for Laura's newsletter at: http://lauragriffin.com/subscribe/

Laura London

Laura London is the pen name for the husband and wife writing team Tom and Sharon Curtis. Married more than forty years, Tom and Sharon published ten historical and contemporary romance novels from 1976 to 1986, many of which have come to be regarded as classics in the genre. The Windflower is in numerous top 100 lists of best romances of the twentieth century, including on Goodreads, The Romance Reader, All About Romance, and Dear Author.Find out the latest at www.facebook.com/lauralondonauthor.

Lisa Renee Jones

Lisa Renee Jones is the New York Times bestselling author of more than forty books across many romance genres - contemporary, romantic suspense, dark paranormal and erotic fiction. Her books have been translated all around the world, and her highly acclaimed Inside Out series is now in development for cable television. Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and can also find her on Facebook www.facebook.com/AuthorLisaReneeJones and on Twitter @LisaReneeJones.

Macy Beckett

Macy Beckett has lived in two countries and eleven different states, but she abandoned her nomadic lifestyle and now resides in Loveland, 'The Sweetheart of Ohio,' with her husband and three spirited children. She earned a Bachelor of Arts in English from Texas State University and resigned, after nine years of teaching, to write novels full-time.Visit her at www.macybeckett.com, on Facebook www.facebook.com/AuthorMacyBeckett and on Twitter @MacyBeckett for more information.

Marie Force

Marie Force is the New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of more than thirty contemporary romances, including the Green Mountain series, the McCarthys of Gansett Island series, the Fatal series, the Treading Water series and numerous standalone books. While her husband was in the U.S. Navy, Marie lived in Spain, Maryland and Florida, and she is now settled in her home state of Rhode Island. She is the mother of two teenagers and two feisty dogs, Brandy and Louie.Join Marie at www.marieforce.com to get news on her latest books, or keep up to date with her on Twitter: @marieforce and Facebook: www.facebook.com/MarieForceAuthor.

Monica Murphy

Monica Murphy is the New York Times bestselling author of One Week Girlfriend and its sequel, Second Chance Boyfriend. A native Californian, she lives in the foothills below Yosemite with her husband and three children.For more information, please visit her at http://monicamurphyauthor.com or on her blog http://missmonicamurphy.blogspot.comMurphy also writes romance as Karen Erickson (http://karenerickson.com).