












“You showed.”
Shrieking, I turn around, with a hand over my rapidly beating heart. My first thought is: He’s huge. My second thought is: He’s that asshole. My third thought is: Damn, he’s fine.
Be cool Dev, be cool. My fingernails dig into my palms as I try to slow it down, bite my tongue and rein in my swirling emotions. I can’t make an enemy of this man when he could be the key to solving so many answers of my past.
“Y-yes.”
He smirks, slowing coming forward and my breath catches before I burst out into a fit of laughter. He’s a beast–a giant with ink covering both arms, but in that white apron he’s wearing over a pair of worn jeans he looks like any woman’s wet dream who’s over forty.
“What?” He barks.
“It’s just. It’s just that… I’m sorry,” I gasp out swiping tears of laughter, “You look hot. I mean, for an old guy and all… in that apron,” I gesture with one hand, trying to charm him with the truth.
His lips don’t twitch. He stares me down with eyes that seem to glow in the dark. Fascinated, I slowly walk forward. I’ve never seen eyes that color before. They’re light blue like arctic ice caps, bobbing in a frigid sea. And his hair… it’s gray and hands down the back of his neck tethered by a leather strap. His beard looks soft, they kind that you could run a hand over before you cuddle in, listening to the sound of your man’s steady heart.
What the fuck?
I shake my head and clear my throat. “I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”
“Follow me,” he grunts.
He leads me down a hall towards the kitchen. The smells wafting towards us makes my tummy growl. I know he heard, but he doesn’t crack a joke at my expense.
My eyes lower to his ass, and I bite my lip. He’s built. His ass is firm and meaty like he used to power lift or something. I kind of feel like a freak for even looking at a man who’s got to be twice my age at least—but I’m fascinated. I’m fascinated that he’s in such good shape and intrigued that he knows who Dee was. I need to make sure I get this job. It might be the key to solving everything about my past.






An avid reader, K. Marie fell in love with books when a good friend bequeathed her with her very first Harlequin Romance novel. An admitted sucker for happily-ever-after, she loves nothing more than a gripping tale rife with hunky heroes, feisty heroines, and lots of drama. Reading has always been her escape, but writing is her passion. So, it was only natural that she’d one day create her own steamy tale of sex, lies, love, and redemption.
K. Marie is a self-professed feminist, who believes in indulging and catering to the female fantasy in an unabashed and unapologetic fashion.
She currently lives in Michigan with her heroic husband and incorrigible children. When not writing, she can be found ranting and raving at cable news, deeply engrossed in politics; doing DIY projects, or planning her next vacation.
Wreckless Engagement is her debut novel.




I’ve loved and lost. Now I lose myself in mindless sex, drinking and work, anything to pass the time and fill the void that I feel. Another drink, another guy…until Chase Wilson. He’s not what I expect, turns out he’s also not who I thought. Then again, neither am I.
Some might call what I’m doing destructive, I call it survival. When finally putting myself out there backfires, I vow not to let it happen again. I know what my body wants, but it’s not what my heart needs and it’s about time I learn the difference.
As life around me moves on, I realize life is worth living and that I’m worth loving. But old habits die hard as I struggle to understand Chase’s motives for trying to save me from myself.
One thing is clear. For the first time, I’m done being perfectly lonely.

Jessica Marin began her love affair with books at a young age from the encouragement of her Grandma Shirley. She has always dreamed of being an author and finally made her dreams of writing happily ever after stories a reality. She currently resides in Tennessee with her husband, children and fur babies. When she is not hanging out with her family, she loves watching a good movie, going dancing with the ladies, sniffing essential oils and daydreaming of warm beaches, winning the lotto and world peace.
Book Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0792F84WY
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Reviews
“With beautifully written characters and a storyline that was an emotional journey, this is a book that should not be missed.”
Goodreads reviewer
“A must for any romance lover.”
Amazon reviewer
“It was a beautiful story to read and a smoking hot chemistry added to the appeal.”
Amazon reviewer
Blurbs
A grieving heiress.
A celebrity psychologist.
A decade of friendship.
Undone.
When Camille first met Jackson she was too young.
Too innocent.
Too traumatized.
Friendship was less than what she wanted, but all she could handle. Ten years later and she’s a different woman. Strong, successful, brave. At exactly the wrong moment, one bold move threatens everything. The safe harbor of Jackson’s family. The unconditional commitment of his friendship.
The collection of secrets she never knew existed, Claims and confessions come hard and fast as Jackson and Camille navigate all that has never
been said. Each step they take, closer to the truth and each other, demands another layer of secrets must fall. Collecting Secrets is a steamy standalone contemporary romance with no cliffhanger. You will meet characters who will reappear throughout the series.
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PE KAVANAGH has been a professional dancer, MIT-educated engineer, corporate executive, spiritual teacher, and chef. These days, her favorite titles are author, mother, and hot stuff. Find out what she’s up to at pekavanagh.com.
Excerpt
This was not the first time Camille had looked foolish, but it might have been the first time she didn’t care. Unable to find her room key or hold back the torrent of tears, she plunked down onto the ugly hotel carpet in front of her door and sobbed, loud and hard. With nothing but the back of her hand to wipe away the tears and snot, the scene quickly escalated from tragic to gruesome. Heartbreak was no stranger. But this particularly cruel break-up was the last straw. How dare he? She had given him everything and he claimed it wasn’t enough. He’d stood in the cold marble lobby and yelled at her. Accused her of cheating. As if… Humiliation mingled with anger and desperation, halting any effort to pull herself together. They’d flown across the country to attend this wedding and now she’d be conspicuously dateless in a room full of happy couples. She tried to take a breath and choked on a new wave of tears.
A soft crush of footsteps stopped in front of her, but Camille had no interest in lifting her head off her knees to look.
“Hey, Cam. What’s wrong?”
She knew that voice, as well as the gentle stroke of his hand in her hair. “Camille. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
His worry pierced through her pain and, with great effort, she tilted her head up to see her best friend’s face inches from hers. His eyes flashed to fear. “Camille! What happened? Are you okay? Talk to me!” It took so much energy to form words. “Calm down, Jack. I’m okay.” “You don’t look okay. Did something happen with Charlie? Where is he?” The questions were coming too fast for Camille’s throbbing, blurry head. “He dumped me.”
There, she said it. Out loud. The line of his lips flattened and his breath growled. Rage filled his expression. “That mother fu-”
Camille shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “We flew all the way here and that bastard couldn’t even wait one more day.”
Jackson’s mouth softened. “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. She looked into the warm brown eyes of her closest friend, the man who’d been like a brother for the past ten years. This was how she knew him best – kind, caring, and sweet. She didn’t care how the world saw him. She had gotten to know the real man. “Let’s get you up and into your room.” He slipped his long arms under hers and stood her up. She fell into his broad chest, melting into the arms that enveloped her. “Where’s your key, love?” he whispered into the top of her head. She mumbled into his chest. “I couldn’t find it.” Keeping a firm grip around her with one arm, Jackson dipped down to pick her purse up off the ground. “Can I take a look?”
“Of course.” She had no secrets from him. She winced when he had to unlock his arm from her waist to search through her purse. Of course, he knew exactly where she would have put the key: in the smallest zippered pocket. He waved it in front of the magnetic pad and the loud click confirmed his success. As expected, the room had been cleared of all Charlie’s belongings. His compulsiveness would have prevented him from forgetting anything. Camille stepped away from Jackson to look around, hoping to find a belt, or a tie, or even a tube of shaving cream. Any excuse to contact him again. But there was nothing, not even a stray hair. Charlie had almost snuck out without her knowing. If she hadn’t had to leave the restaurant to go to the bathroom, she would never have seen him, bags in hand, striding across the lobby. Jackson stepped in front of her, halting her examination of the room, and began wiping her eyes and nose with a tissue.
“I’m a mess.” Only the slightest tinge of self-consciousness colored the moment. This was who they were and had always been. He pressed the tissue across her nose and she blew, like a small child.
“No, Cam. You’re just hurting.” He balled up the tissue and flicked it into the small metal bin to his right. “I know you’re upset, love. But, personally, I’m glad he’s gone. He was never good enough for you. And he reinforced his complete lack of class by doing this here. I mean, he couldn’t have ended it before flying to Chicago with you?” Camille dropped her head, another rush of tears pressing against her eyes. His broad palms cupped her face, tilting her up to look at him. “Hey, hey, Cam. He has no idea what an amazing woman you are. There are better things in your future. I know it.”












Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She is a wife and mom chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond, she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder.




Natalie Bennett is the creator of erotic stories that always come with a warning label. She writes about depraved alpha a**holes and women that love to hate them. Her books don’t follow any specific tropes, have no set word counts, and tend to deviate from traditional HEA’s.
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