Author
My High School Bully
Bleakwood Academy is the most prestigious school in the world for boys with talents like mine. The only problem? I’m a girl.
Billionaire Boys Club
My uniform—and my dignity—are in tatters. My eyes scan the gathered crowd, but there are three faces in particular that catch my attention. Cold, cruel, beautiful. An ugly sort of beautiful, I think as I meet a narrowed silver gaze and catch the faintest edges of a smirk. Tristan Vanderbilt thinks he’s beaten me; they all do. But what they don’t understand is that I’m not the nervous, eager little charity case I was when I first started at Burberry Prep.
A Christmas Miracle
Heather Shaw would never fall in love. She wanted nothing serious— six weeks at most. Anything longer didn’t fit into her life and never would. She had enough broken promises to last her a lifetime. Speed dating, online dating, or the good old-fashioned meet in person did nothing for her. Her speech to her now ex-boyfriend, Derek Ross, replayed in her head. They were over. Not meant to be. He nodded and they parted ways. She had her closure and, from the way he left the restaurant, he wasn’t too heartbroken over it. It was only six weeks. Heather was never cruel during her breakup talks. She was honest. Some men understood while others tried to convince her to give them a chance. One even suggested a pause. A pause? How would that work?
Match Made In Heaven
I bounced one of the many stress balls I had against the large window that made up an entire wall of my office. Below my vantage point, I could see practically all of New York City, sprawling with life and activity. People trying to scrounge up from the bottom, or stay on top. I sighed deeply and bounced the ball against the glass once more. “What am I doing, Victor? I feel stuck, not that being stuck at the top is a bad thing, but I feel like I need more from life. You know?”
Auctioned by the CEO
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Cinderella
MAX VASILIKOS LOWERED his tall frame into the leather chair by the desk and relaxed back into it, his long legs stretching out in front of him. ‘OK, what have you got for me?’ His UK agent handed him a set of glossy brochures. ‘I think there are some good contenders here, Mr Vasilikos,’ he said hopefully to this most demanding of clients. Max’s dark eyes glanced briefly, and then he found his gaze lingering on only one of the properties. An English country house, in warm honey-coloured stone, with wisteria tumbling over the porch, surrounded by verdant gardens and sheltering woodland, with a glimpse of a lake beyond the lawn. Bathed in sunshine, the whole place had an appeal that held his gaze, making him want to see the real thing. He picked up the brochure and shifted his gaze to his agent. ‘This one,’ he said decisively.
His
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The Mafia Princess
She had a bruise on her arm. That was the first sign that something was wrong. She had told him that she hit her arm on the side of the pool while swimming laps, and he believed her. But now, he wasn’t so sure. She had been distant. He knew his daughter, she was the life of the party. She spent her every moment he was home in his face since the second she was born. Test scores, photos, mundane stories, the girl shared every detail of her life with him. Lately, she regarded him with one word answers and stalked to her bedroom. “She’s a teenager.” His wife told him with a shrug. Yeah, that was true, but she had been a teenager for years now and this was the first time she’d ever kept her distance from him. Something was wrong. He felt it in his bones, he was so sure of it. He knew his daughter.
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