Tyler Westbrook, better known as Johnny Depth, is taking the adult film industry by storm. With his playboy looks, it’s no surprise a few coworkers have attempted to take things off set and into the bedroom, but Tyler refuses to blur the lines between work and play…until the new assistant to the director walks in.
Jemma Morgan was recently fired from a lead role on a kid’s TV show that was supposed to be her big break. Unable to get another acting gig, she’s accepted a job in an industry she never expected to be a part of. Although she anticipates being shocked her first few days on set, nothing could prepare her for the moment she’s asked to hold the reflector as her ex-boyfriend plows through a woman like a Kansas cornfield.
In a world of butt-plugs, lube, and fake moans, is there a place for a second chance? Exes and some serious ohs…the term ex-rated just took on a whole new meaning.
Stevie J. Cole is a secret rock star. Sex, drugs and, oh wait, no, just sex. She’s a whore for a British accent and has an unhealthy obsession with Russell Brand. She and LP plan to elope in Vegas and breed the world’s most epic child.
“Dash Wallace is a dirty talking, sexy professional baseball player who falls hard for the girl next door, but beware… your heart will take a beating as you watch him struggle with sticking to all he’s ever known at the risk of losing the best thing that ever happened to him. Hardball is one of those books that will suck you in and won’t let you go until you devour every last, juicy bite.”
– Sawyer Bennett, NY Times Bestselling Author
“Fiery hot and enticingly realistic, CD Reiss’s captivating writing, complex characters and explosive love scenes make Hard Ball an irresistible modern day romance.”
– Katy Evans, NY Times Bestselling Author
“Delightful, sexy, emotional, exciting, exhilarating. I loved every single second of it! A sports romance with a DASH of kink….it doesn’t get any better than that!”
– Shayna Renee’s Spicy Reads
“Unexpectedly emotional, beautifully written, and decadently naughty, CD Reiss once again owned me heart and soul. Hardball was an enthralling romance from start to finish!! And I never wanted it to end.”
– Angie and Jessica’s Dreamy Reads
CD Reiss is a USA Today 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.
She’s frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn’t ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.
If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.
Falling in love is hard. Falling in love on national television is impossible. Right?
Leighton Aldridge did not sign up to meet her soulmate. She signed up for the lights, camera and action. So when the Hollywood-native ends up with the wounded war veteran and a ring on her finger, it’s a surprise to everyone. What isn’t a surprise is the way she breaks Finn Wyatt’s heart, or the massively public breakup that follows. But a year later she’s back, ready for another round on the reality TV show that brought them together. She knows he was the real thing, and she’s ready to fight for him.
Finn is the new Mr. Right. The country’s favorite single guy, and the object of 25 women’s affections. But when his ex-fiance steps onto set and back into the limelight, he wishes he never agreed to another season. Leighton shattered his heart for the world to see, and he’s not ready to face that reality. Can Leighton convince him, and America, that she’s the one? Or will her future with Finn only consist of 15 more minutes of fame?
Author of romance novels such as the Over the Fence series and Red Card, Carrie Aarons writes sexy, swoony and sarcastic characters who won’t get out of her head until she puts them down on a page.
Carrie Aarons has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book, and can’t describe what it feels like to be able to write love stories as an actual career. She loves spinning tales that include dapper men, women with attitude, and the occasional hunky athlete.
When she isn’t in what her husband calls a “writing coma,” Carrie Aarons is freeing-up her jampacked DVR, trying to become the next HGTV star as she DIYs her very first house, and planning her next travel adventure. She lives on the east coast with her husband whom she loves dearly for supporting her crazy dreams and putting up with her sassy, extroverted ways.
“I’ve told you I’ve fantasized about you. So, tell me the truth. Do you fantasize about me?”
Bestselling novelist Jackson Ford is arrogant, exacting, and relentless on the page and off. His irresistible new editor, Ellie Parker is smart, headstrong, and not intimidated by Jackson’s attitude – or the way he turns every exchange into a filthy seduction.
There isn’t a thing these two can agree on, except their intense attraction. But with Jackson’s deadline looming, can they stop fighting long enough for him to deliver the hit she needs?
The relationship between editor and author has never been so intimate or so explicit…
Roxy Sloane is a romance junkie with a dirty mind. She lives in Los Angeles with her hot ex-military hubby and her two kids. She loves writing sexy, complex stories about pushing the boundaries and risking it all.
You MUST read this! Seriously…just go to Amazon and use your 1-Click finger right now. Just do it. You’ll thank me later!
I’m so glad I read this and once I started I couldn’t put it down. I had to know how Lola’s story ended and how it impacted Wynn’s story. There’s a line about people only being afraid to die if they are afraid they haven’t lived…not a direct quote ….that was like a punch in the gut. I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought this at 43 years old. What have I used these 4 decades to do? Why do I keep talking myself out of following my dreams? Maybe I’ll fail but I have to try. I have to stop being afraid to try and stop making excuses for not trying. I want to write. I’ve been doing it as a hobby since I was 12. And maybe I’m no good really but maybe 1 of the stories in my head will move someone like this one moved me. Just maybe. And if not, I’ll still be able to say, “I tried. I wrote that book (or that story).” And I’ll have left that piece of me behind to show I was here and I lived.
I cried several times and many more times I had to pause and absorb what I had just read. It felt like Emily Hemmer wrote this just for me and I found it just when I was supposed to. That feeling is a rare treasure. I’m a fan for life!
This book will be read again and again.
Start living! (Right after you read this book!)
2nd book in the Giving You… series. Can be read as a standalone
When foul-mouthed, tattooed, vegan Marie Diaz-Austin accepted a summer internship on a ranch north of Santa Barbara to work with underprivileged and special needs kids she was expecting hard work. She wasn’t expecting the gorgeous, but conservative rancher, Will Thrash who wants nothing to do with left-wing hippies like her.
While they both may be stubborn when it comes to climate change, they’re much less rigid about considering a summer fling. Although they hate each other’s politics, they can’t deny their immediate and growing attraction to each other. But when the stakes are raised and they’re forced to make a choice what will give? Their principles or themselves?
Leslie McAdam is a California girl who loves romance, Little Dude, and well-defined abs. She lives in a drafty old farmhouse on a small orange tree farm in Southern California with her husband and two small children. Leslie always encourages her kids to be themselves – even if it means letting her daughter wear leopard print from head to toe. An avid reader from a young age, she will always trade watching TV for reading a book, unless it’s Top Gear. Or football. Leslie is employed by day but spends her nights writing about the men you fantasize about. She’s unapologetically sarcastic and notoriously terrible at comma placement (that’s what editors are for!).
Always up for a laugh, Leslie tries to see humor in all things. When she’s not in the writing cave you’ll find her fangirling over Beck, camping with her family, or mixing up oil paints to depict her love of outdoors on canvas.
“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.
He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.
And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.
“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.
As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.
“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.
I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.
“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”
My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.
School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.
It was never like this before. Ever.
I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.
Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.
Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.
Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.
I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.
I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.
Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left…forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.
Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.
I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.
I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.
He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But ‘please’ never seems to work.
I’ve just got to take the beatings, because that’s what stupid, ugly girls do.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
There’s something about the written word that is pure magic.
Possibly it’s the fact there are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and they can create something so beautiful or so empowering they’re capable to change our lives.
How important is it that we break suit and stretch our minds?
I like to think of myself as ‘unique’. My stories aren’t for everyone, and sometimes I may push what you believe to be ‘normal’.
Normal is subjective.
I prefer to be known as a person who’s never been ‘bound by custom’ but is ‘unique by choice’.
Maybe you pretend you don’t. Maybe you clear your browser history religiously. Maybe you pretend to be aghast whenever someone even mentions the word porn in your presence.
But the truth is that you do know me.
Everybody knows Logan O’Toole, world famous porn star.
Except then Devi Dare pops into my world, and pretty soon I’m doing things that aren’t like me—like texting her with flirty banter and creating an entire web porn series just so I can get to star in her bed. Again. And again.
With Devi, my entire universe shifts, and the more time I spend with her, the more I realize that Logan O’Toole isn’t the guy I thought he was.
So maybe I’m not the guy you thought I was either.
This seems to be a case of blatant discrimination against this one book or one author when the policy is not adhered to throughout their site. Authors MUST have each other’s backs on these issues. Work together to make a change or stick together and pull your business.
This is unacceptable from a major publishing site.
I’m a HUGE Toni Aleo fan! Her hockey romances have even turned me into a novice hockey fan. Her new release will be out soon and I can’t wait to offer you my review. Check her Assassin’s Series out on Amazon!