The men of the Marsh family have spent their lives riding hard, in and out of the saddle.
None of them have any plans on settling down. Falling in love just isn’t for them. Or so they thought.
Book One: Feels Like the First Time
Book Two: When You Least Expect It
Book Three: Colton’s Memory
Sophie doesn’t care what anyone says—she wants Rooter. Labeled by the local news as a “vicious criminal,” he is the very image of one. But the tattoos, muscles, and brooding countenance only intensify her interest.
After Rooter saves her from a pair of dangerous thugs, Sophie begins to see the man behind the visage. Regardless of his dangerous past, and the secrets he hides, Sophie believes Rooter is a good man.
Swept into a passionate love affair, Sophie realizes that while Rooter isn’t as evil as everyone believes him to be, being with him isn’t as perfect as she envisioned. An accusation of a brutal crime leaves their relationship reeling.
Will they be able to come back from the edge of the precipice… or will their love end before they ever even have the chance to savor it?
Life was a bitch, but if Tabitha Brownlee is to be believed, Death was an alcoholic megalomaniac with a penchant for single malt and eyebrows that met in the middle.
He alone had the power to put her soul back into her body and evict the son of a bitch who’d taken her place.
Rich and hot as hell, Sebastian is every woman's rock star dream.
Every woman's but Cadence's that is.
All she wants is to live a life in private. But from the moment they meet, he knows he wants her. In his arms, his bed, his life. And what he wants, he gets.
But all the money in the world can't erase a past that might not be ready to let her go.
I need a bride. Today.
My empire depends on finding a wife, any woman. I need a pretend wife for a few weeks and will pay handsomely too.
No strings attached.
Not even a kiss.
No wifely duties required. I have other women for that. That’s exactly why I’m known as a brute.
This bad boy rocker has met his match. He wants her heart, but she only wants his body.
I don’t care that he’s a smooth talker. He can sweet-talk me all he likes, so long as he backs it up with an orgasm or two. But I’m not looking for a relationship. God, no. Not with a rockstar.
I don’t care that she argues with me and throws up walls like she’s building a fucking house. Presley Hart will be mine. I’ll make sure of it.
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