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Billionaires Contract Engagement Predestined (Existence Trilogy #2)

She looked down at her traitorous ankle. I suppose I need to find someone to carry me there.

MADELINE’S DICTIONARYprom•ise (?präm?s) n. pl. -es. 1. The lie you want to keep. [2015, Whittier]

Bane (The Devils Roses #2)

According to the guidebook, Maui is shaped like a head. Our cab ride will take us across the neck, along the jawline, over the chin, mouth, nose, and up to the wide forehead. I’ve booked us into a hotel in Ka’anapali, which is in the skull just beyond the hairline, geographically speaking.We turn a corner and suddenly the ocean is just there, running alongside the road to the left of us. It can’t be more than thirty feet away.The vast endlessness of it is shocking. It falls off the end of the world.

Anything, Anywhere, Anytime (Wingmen Warriors #6)

I can’t believe I’ve missed all this, I say. I’ve missed the whole wide world.He shakes his head. One thing at a time, Maddy. We’re here now.

I look back at Olly’s ocean eyes and I’m drowning, surrounded on all sides by water. There’s so much to see that it’s hard to know what to pay attention to. The world is too big and there’s not enough time for me to see it.

Again he reads my mind. Do you want to stop and look?Dear Gentleman Mentor,

As I type the first line, I realize I haven’t felt this alive in months. There’s something exciting and taboo about this, and apparently that gets my blood pumping. My fingers fly across the keyboard, typing quickly, before I can change my mind. It’s like they know something I don’t.I am responding to your ad for lessons in seduction. I’d like your help in attracting a man. A little bit about me—I’m twenty-six, currently single, and I work as a real estate agent. I enjoy reading, yoga, and baking. I guess I’m just a regular girl who needs some extra help. I’ve never been good at the whole dating thing.

Forever Consumed (Consumed #3)

—Potential ClientWith my heart pounding out of my chest, my finger hovers over the Send button. My mouth is bone dry, and my pulse is rioting in my throat. I know this is a big moment, but I can’t explain why. I click Send and take a deep gulp of air.

Leaning against the mountain of pillows piled at my headboard, I allow myself to daydream a little. What if this actually works? I picture myself with Kirby and a fond smile dances on my lips. The advice from my friends is to move on, to find another man who is as passionate about me as I am about him. But the thing is, I’ve tried. I’ve been on forty-three first dates and only three second dates. My track record is awful.How do you even know if you’re dating, anyway? It’s all texting and meeting up for drinks on neutral ground and then waiting, hoping he’ll call. It’s casual sex and drunken hookups that you hope lead to more. It’s online dating profiles where you try to be witty and charming, and irresistibly sexy and cute. Achieving that perfect combination of girl-next-door and bombshell.

And it’s exhausting. I’m not any good at it. I’ve never been aggressive or flirty, or even very good at making conversation. I’m boring. A bookworm. A dedicated and loyal friend and employee. This is why I need help.I glance at my e-mail again and almost shriek when I see his response. I sit up straighter and adjust my laptop screen.

Your e-mail bored me to tears. No wonder you need help attracting a man. Tell me about yourself. Hold nothing back. I’m a busy and demanding man. Dig deep. Why are you really single, and what do you need me for? Make me believe it, and I will give you the same candor.What a prick. I’m about to delete his e-mail and forget the entire failed experiment when a little voice whispers inside me, He’s right. My e-mail was boring and surface level. It didn’t tell him anything about me, or why he should work with me, if he’s as busy as his e-mail suggests he is.

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