Ambitious organizer Minn Evans resents being the only sane and stable person in her family. She wants a normal life with schedules and balanced meals and maybe a man who won’t fall for her sister.
Ford Hayes, a whiz at creativity and a dud at organization, becomes Art Director for a privately-owned TV station. But his office is a mess, his planning skills are a train wreck, and he can’t find his socks.
Minn needs a job; Ford needs an organizer. But Minn’s vagabond parents and man-stupifying sister aren’t the only roadblocks on their journey to love.
The building that might hold her future towered over her, glowing with promise. She put her hand on the brass plate, mentally crossed her fingers, and pushed. Uh-oh. She sprinted for the closing elevator door and risked a glance at her watch. Time for a stop in a bathroom, time to practice the carefully prepared answers to standard questions, time to chew a breath mint.
Her heel caught in the gap between floor and elevator cabin, catapulting her into a passenger. Arms that had been full of files now held only her. His files were on the floor, and her breast was in his hand. Heat prickled up her neck and into her cheeks. “I…uh…it was…oh, my…”
He stared at his hand—no, at her breast!
Minn lurched back and groaned, reaching for her broken heel. Her stomach fed-exed bile to her chest. This couldn’t be worse.
A thoaty “Oh, crap!” drew her attention to a patchwork of paper and now-empty file folders across the floor.
“I-I’m so very sorry. I’m not usually so clumsy.” They both bent, heads collided, her feet slipped on the loose paper. Down she went.
Okay. It could be worse.
About The Author
Jeanne Kern is a retired high school teacher who found her HEA when she met her husband on the internet. Together they love traveling and animal encounters: petting whales in Baja California, feeding rhino in Indonesia, walking with lions in Zimbabwe. Rich runs an award-winning volleyball website and Jeanne enjoys acting on stage and in indie horror films.
Dr. Lauren Marsh, a pregnant vampire, seeks therapy to overcome a recent trauma, but is her creepy doctor interested in more than her well-being? Will evil intercede, dashing the promise of a Christmas baby?
“What is stirring in that conniving mind of yours?” Ras squinted at his assistant.
“Hmm. I’m thinkin’. Your life mate’s supposed to be a virgin.”
“True, but I gave up on that notion long ago. She is also supposed to be a born vampire, not made.”
“So, if you could arrange for the mother to go into labor, we could disappear with her child. What’s time to you? The baby’d grow up soon enough. You’d have a virgin bride and a born vampire.”
Ras tapped an index finger to his lips. “Brilliant idea—so glad I thought of it.”
Teensy rolled her black eyes. “I’ll get to work. Let’s see, what prescriptions will we need? Pitocin to start her labor and morphine to knock her out? Of course, all this hinges on the child being a girl.”
“I’ll write the prescription for the meds.” Before Ras passed the smelling salts under Lauren’s nose, he eased his hand under her pink sweatshirt and placed his palm on her round belly. The baby pushed against his hand, and he closed his eyes, envisioning the tiny bundle in her mother’s womb. Ras smiled broadly. “She has violet eyes.”
About the Author
Inspired by her fascination with vampires, Susan Blexrud used her background in journalism and political speechwriting to pen a 5-book series on a pair of wedded vampires (she a dentist, he a lawyer) who have a penchant for getting into trouble. With their wacky sidekicks and a duo of best friends, they navigate the world as vigilantes while expanding their immediate family and maintaining a veneer of normal careers and PTA meetings.
Forty-eight-year-old Corbett Thomas, a one-hit wonder of the 90s, now
works as the lead sommelier at Napa Valley’s hippest restaurant. Set
to become one of the few Master Sommeliers in the world, Corbett
self-destructs during his final exam, ruining his last chance at capturing
the stardom and adoration he got a taste for in his youth.
When billionaire game designer, Brogan Prescott, asks Corbett to consult on
a major vineyard acquisition, Corbett sees it as a shot at redemption, until
he learns of Brogan’s ridiculous vision of a virtual-reality, Woke Ant
Colony Winery. Disgusted, Corbett decides to buy the vineyard himself and
preserve its magic and history. Cashless, clueless, and with his reputation
in tatters, Corbett enlists the help of his bass-player-turned-lawyer Seamus
O’Flaherty, who may have finally lost his stomach for Corbett’s
bad ideas; his uber-rational daughter Remy, who wants Corbett to uncork some
family secrets he’d rather leave in the cellar; and Sydney Cameron,
whose sudden appearance in Corbett’s life may repair his heart or
shatter it forever.
With their help-and sometimes despite it-Corbett discovers what Brogan has
known all along: a four-billion-dollar gold deposit lies beneath the
vineyard. If Brogan acquires the property, the ensuing gold rush will
destroy Napa Valley.
But if Corbett can get out of his own way long enough to purchase the
vineyard first, he’ll be faced with the hardest decision of his life:
take the fame and fortune he desperately craves, or save the soul of the
valley he loves so much.
Let’s get one thing clear – I won that bet fair and square, even
though I cheated.
I blame the whole thing on Rick Dornin, who was being particularly douchey
that night. I used to be able to choose whichever party I wanted to serve
without question. That is, until Dornin arrived at Appellation with his
anal-retentive online calendar and industrial-grade Napoleon complex.
Yes, that Appellation. The most coveted dining experience in all of Napa
Valley, and one of only nine restaurants in America awarded three Michelin
stars. It took a DNA sample and a copy of your credit report to get a table,
and then you’d better be ready to cash in your 401(k) when the bill
The evening started out normally enough. I arrived at the restaurant an
hour before my shift to check reservations, talk to Chef Dan about the
evening’s specials, and think of pairings for the prix fixe. Dornin
was in his office—a modified broom closet next to the staff bathroom
that looked like a hoarder’s den with one, tiny deer trail leading to
his desk. In fact, he was always in his office, even when service was
slammed, which drove me batshit crazy. I don’t care if you’re
General Manager or General Patton—when it’s time to schlep a
plate or buff a glass, you step up and do it.
Anyway, I poked my head through the doorway and said, “Hey,
Rick,” trying to keep things light and cheery. “What do you know
about this Harrison party at eight?”
“Whales,” he replied, not bothering to look up from his
purchase orders. “Big whales, like Moby Dick whales.”
“Sweet!” Visions of stockbrokers trying to one-up each other
with bottles of Screaming Eagle at five thousand bucks a pop danced in my
head. Tips so big they come in a brown paper bag.
“Yes.” Dornin finally looked up at me and grinned like he
learned how to do it from an infomercial. “They’ll be in the
Veraison Room. With Andrew.”
“What?” I lunged into the tiny office, nearly tripping over a
carton of water glasses. “You can’t give it to
“I can give it to whoever I want.” He went back to his purchase
orders, feigning a nonchalance that made me want to smack him. “If I
want to move Felipe off of bussing and let him pop some corks, I could do
Time for a different tack—one that wouldn’t involve me going
full-on Hannibal Lecter. “I’m just saying that a party like that
comes to a restaurant like this to experience the highest level of service
in the world. I’m the guy they’re coming for, not Andrew. I sit
for my Master Somm next week, and—”
“You know what you are, Corbett? You’re an overpaid
bartender.” Dornin had thin lips and an Adam’s apple the size of
Detroit, and it bugged me. “You trained for twenty years to learn how
to pull a cork from a bottle and tell people that red wine goes with steak.
Whoop-tee-freaking-do. You’ll work the floor tonight, and you can have
the Jansen party on the terrace at seven-thirty.”
My left eyebrow started twitching, which happens when I get stressed out.
Apparently, no one can see it, but to me, it feels like a two-year-old is
digging tiny fingers into my face and stretching it like saltwater taffy. I
considered trying the No One Has Experience At Up-Selling Like I Do
approach, but this was the third time in as many weeks I’d had such a
run-in with Dornin.
I was done.
It was time to talk to Chef Dan.
Most people remember Chef Daniel Foyer from his five seasons on Elite Chef,
The Food Channel’s number one show from 1998 to 2002. With a chin so
chiseled it could slice a burnt chuck steak and blue eyes that screamed,
“Come taste this gazpacho in my bedroom,” he was the prototype
celebrity chef. But Father Time had been most inhospitable to Chef Dan, and
for the past couple of years the poor soul tried to counteract a rapid aging
process by dunking his scalp and Sam Elliott-sized mustache in a
fifty-gallon drum of jet-black hair dye. The net effect was so incongruous
with the rest of his wrinkled face that I could barely look at him without
drowning in the shore break of cognitive dissonance.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved the guy. He was a loyal and trusted
friend, and straight-up the most amazing culinary artist of my generation.
But if I’d had any money, I would have bought stock in Just For Men
and eventually retire on my Chef Dan profits alone.
About the Author
John Taylor has been writing about wine since 2012, but his meanderings on
life began way before that. Born and raised in San Diego, California, John
moved to Los Angeles in 1982 to pursue dreams of screenwriting and
filmmaking. He attended the University of Southern California, where he
majored in Shattered Dreams and False Hopes, with a minor in Getting Gut
Punched By Reality. After being handed a degree in Journalism in 1987 as a
consolation prize, John dove into a career in music. Because getting
gut-punched just isn’t painful enough.
By 1996, John and his band, The Uninvited, had produced four independent
albums and became one of the most popular acts in the western United States.
This lead to a deal on Atlantic Records, which released the band’s
self-titled debut album in 1997. The band had two Top 100 hits, and toured
nationally with Dave Matthews, Blues Traveller, Third Eye Blind and many
other acts. Their music appeared in the TV shows Beverly Hills 90210 and Party of Five, and in the motion pictures The Commandments and North Beach.
The band can also be heard in several HBO Documentaries, video games and on
that annoying “One Hit Wonders of The 90’s” station your
co-worker always plays on Spotify.
In 2001, John’s vast experience in shattered dreams was once again
called into play as the band hung up their touring shoes for good. After a
brief but horrifying career in real estate, John got wise and made a career
out of his favorite hobby – wine – and has held various sales
& marketing positions in Napa Valley since 2011. John’s writing
career started in earnest at this point, with blogs, essays and short
stories appearing in various publications. John is the author of three
novels, including the aptly-titled Pairs With: Life, which will be released
by Hurn Publications in September 2020.
From internationally bestselling romance author Alexa Aston comes a stunning new Contemporary Romance series. Book One in the exciting Hollywood Name Game series has arrived. Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
Being late to an interview lands her the biggest job opportunity of her life.
He may be rich and successful—but he’s just this side of miserable.
Can a wannabe be The One for the biggest star in Hollywood?
Cassie Carroll came to Hollywood with big dreams that never materialized. Acting isn’t even on the back burner anymore—it’s completely off the stove. Working for a third-rate agent, Cassie hopes to land a new job that will give her credibility, as well as help pay the rent. Late to her interview, she swerves to avoid hitting a dog—and totals the car of Hollywood’s leading action superstar. Surprisingly, she walks away from their encounter with a job—as the sexiest man alive’s personal assistant.
Rhett Corrigan is bored with the movies he makes and the drop-dead gorgeous model he’s dating. He’s afraid that Hollywood has typecast him—and that he’ll never be able to break out of his action mold and try new acting challenges. When Cassie Carroll literally slams into his life, she brings a breath of fresh air and common sense to his world. She pushes him to be a better actor and a better man.
Can these friends become lovers—and can their love survive—in a tabloid-happy town that thrives on rumors and backstabbing?
Hollywood Heartbreaker is the first book in the Hollywood Name Game series. Each book in the series is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.
#HollywoodNameGame #AlexaAston #romance #bookbuzz
Other Books in the Hollywood Name Game Romance Series:
Hollywood Name Game. Book 2
Release Date: August 27, 2020
She’s Hollywood royalty whose trail vanished a dozen years ago.
He doesn’t do relationships and thinks commitment is afour-letter word.
They Google each other . . . and sparks fly . . .
SydneyRevere, the daughter of a famous movie couple, left Hollywood behind over adecade ago. Christened The Wild Child bythe media, she reinvents herself as a serious student who becomes an attorneyand marries a safe, predictable man. When her husband cheats on her and the lawloses its glitter, Sydney returns to Hollywood. Her father hires her tostoryboard his upcoming movie, No Regrets–andthen stuns Sydney when he offers her the job as his assistant director.
DashDeLauria is a rising actor who hasn’t trusted a woman since his mother left.He’s now the guardian of his mentally-challenged brother. Dash is looking togrow professionally and after he wins the lead in No Regrets, he findshe’s lost his heart and soul to Sydney. With both their careers on the upswing,life is sweet.
ButSydney’s ex-husband isn’t finished with her yet. Discovering who she reallyis–and that she’s wealthy–he tracks her to California, ready to start over withher again.
Cassie squeezed her eyes closed as she plowed into the vehicle. An awful crunching noise sounded, metal grinding against metal. No airbag exploded because the car didn’t have one. She bounced off the steering wheel as her heart slammed against her ribs. The guy that had stepped out couldn’t have survived the impact. What did they call it—vehicular manslaughter? She would go to prison for the rest of her life. This would be the final nail to hammer into the Cassie Coffin. She’d taken a life and would give up her own in payment. Forcing her eyes open, her jaw dropped in amazement.
The guy was alive.
Granted, he was draped across the trunk of some foreign-looking convertible but she hadn’t crushed the life out of him. Somehow, he’d managed to spin around, quick reflexes saving his life. He came upright and limped a few steps. Great. She must have nicked him. He leaned against the car—what was left of it—and held a hand to his forehead as he turned to stare at her.
Her adrenaline spiked. She’d totaled his very expensive car. Cassie had the feeling the stranger was about to tear her apart. She would meet him in the middle and grovel. Maybe turn on some tears for good measure. Hadn’t Jolene told her that men hated themselves when they made women cry?
Cassie unhooked her seat belt and tried to get out of the car. The door wouldn’t budge. Great. She’d have to go back to climbing in through the passenger’s side as she had last month when the Civic went through a temperamental stage. Or maybe not. She glanced around and saw the crumpled hood, steam rising, and watched as the sedan shuddered, giving up the ghost.
The smell of gasoline began to permeate the air, clouding her judgment. She looked down at her outfit and knew today’s interview wasn’t happening with the way she looked. She’d seen homeless people appear more pulled together. Confused, she wondered what she had wanted to do.
Cassie saw the stupid dog again that she’d swerved to miss. A yapping poodle. The mutt’s owner teetered over on stilettos taller than the Eiffel Tower and scooped the dog up, hugging him to her tightly as she glared at Cassie. Cassie estimated the dog’s outfit cost more than her last month’s rent. The woman didn’t bother to ask if she needed help. Hollywood. It was a different world from Texas.
She reached for her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Nothing else of value to save. Cassie prayed the passenger door would open. If it didn’t, she could always climb into the back seat and get out that way.
Suddenly, he was hollering. The guy she’d sort of hit. It must’ve been his car she’d smashed. If she hadn’t been sure before, she was now. Men and their cars—no one came between them.
Cassie giggled at her flash of wisdom. That was one car that wouldn’t be cruising around Beverly Hills anytime soon. Jeez, what would this do to her insurance? She already had two speeding tickets in the last eighteen months. Her insurance agent would drop her now. She’d be at the mercy of those goons that only advertised on late night TV. They charged an arm and a leg to cover high-risk drivers. She was now a charter member of that club.
She looked up as the guy inched closer, hobbling along, yelling, his arms waving. Breathing the fumes had her disoriented. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. She started to apologize but then remembered her mom told her never to apologize after a wreck because that could be construed as admitting guilt. She was at fault. Big time.
The guy made it to her and tried to yank the door open. It wouldn’t move. Before Cassie could speak, he reached through her open window and hauled her out.
“Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing?”
He mumbled something but all Cassie could do was stare at him. He had the most amazing gray eyes, dark and stormy and full of anger.
Recognition seared through her. “Oh, God. You’re Rhett Corrigan.”
About the Author
Award-winning and internationally bestselling author Alexa Aston lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She’s a binge fiend (The Crown and Ozark are favorites) who enjoys travel, sports, and time with her family.
Her historical romances bring to life loveable rogues and dashing knights, while her contemporary romances are light and flirty and sometimes contain a bit of suspense.
Jessica ‘Jessie’ Allen is sugary sweet and perpetually perky. Running on an endless supply of enthusiasm, she’s in constant motion. The people pleaser is running herself ragged to make other people happy—anything to avoid having to figure out what would make her happy.
Devin Bennett is her complete opposite, the immovable object to Jessie’s unstoppable force. The tall, tattooed and brooding mechanic hates change and the perky blonde co-ed shoving it down his throat. Jessie is drawn to him like a valley girl to an outlet mall, but Devin dodges her advances better than a UFC fighter. The longer she’s around, the harder it is to keep his hands off her perfect body and his lips away from her sassy mouth.
For the first time in her life, Jessie knows what she wants. Devin Bennett. And she’s not above torturing him with temptation to make it happen.
Book two in the So Far, So Good series
Other Books in the So Far, So Good Romantic Comedy Series:
So, That Got Weird
So Far, So Good, Book 1
Release Date: December 2019
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
A painfully awkward love story.
Incomprehensibly awkward Elizabeth Wilde is desperate for love. Connection. Intimacy. After a lifetime of romantic failures, the twenty-one-year-old gamer realizes she needs help. Professional help. She needs…
A sex tutor.
The devastatingly hot jock Austin Jacobs is just the man for the job. As the reigning campus sex god, he has the playboy act down pat. But underneath those six-pack abs beats a broken heart. He doesn’t trust people and he sure as hell doesn’t believe in love.
The odd couple strike a deal. Four weeks of ‘tutoring’ for five thousand dollars.
When Austin coaxes Elizabeth out from behind her computer screen, the attraction they feel is undeniable. They’re both a little broken, but somehow their jagged edges fit. And when their world comes tumbling down on top of them, they each have to decide if this weird thing called love is worth fighting for.
Amelia Kingston is many things, the most interesting of which are probably California girl, writer, traveler, and dog mom. She survives on chocolate, coffee, wine, and sarcasm. Not necessarily in that order.
She’s been blessed with a patient husband who’s embraced her nomad ways and traveled with her to over 30 countries across 5 continents (I’m coming for you next, Antarctica!). She’s also been cursed with an impatient (although admittedly adorable) terrier who pouts when her dinner is 5 minutes late.
She writes about strong, stubborn, flawed women and the men who can’t help but love them. Her irreverent books aim to be silly and fun with the occasional storm cloud to remind us to appreciate the sunny days. As a hopeless romantic, her favorite stories are the ones that remind us all that while love is rarely perfect, it’s always worth chasing.