People say I’m shameless. They’re right.

I like my work dirty and my sex even dirtier. It takes a hell of a lot to tilt my moral compass, and dancing as a private stripper for horny suburbanites doesn’t even register. Neither does hooking up with them afterward whenever the mood strikes—it’s one of the bennies of the job—but it’s always a one-and-done. I don’t do repeat performances. Ever.

Until I meet the one girl in all of Chicago not interested in dry humping my junk. She’s all I can think about, and that’s a problem, because I made sure she wants nothing to do with me. But I’ve seen her deepest secrets, her darkest fantasies, and they match mine to a fucking T.

I want her. Bad.

Now I need to show her how good it can feel…to be shameless.

I’m indecisive when it comes to my shoes. Choosing a werewolf mate who’ll be with me until I croak? Pardon me while I take some time to think on it. But a steamy encounter before the final ceremony changes everything.

Reaper, the Omega’s eldest grandson, is fiercely loyal, scorching hot, and built for pleasure. He brings down my defenses, and before I know what’s happening, I succumb to the heat in his touch and the skill of his mouth. I’ve only just met him, but I need him like no other.

As part of my pack duties, I must parade in front of the Alpha, who has first choice of the pre-shifters. Rumors of his dark desires run deep, and I’ve always been intrigued. But the forbidden passion blazing between Reaper and me is too primal to deny. By pack law, Reaper can’t have me until the Alpha makes his choice…but Reaper’s never been one to follow the rules.

When he wins a sexy bet, billionaire Linc Blair can’t wait to get Lauren Neill naked. He’s never gone for her type in the past, and he’s pretty certain it has more to do with her buttoned-up hotness than the nagging sense that something is missing from his life. But when he gets a glimpse of the vulnerable woman beneath the conservative, yet oh-so-sexy clothes, it’s a game changer.

Lauren can’t believe she’s spending a few days with one of sexiest, and most annoying men she’s ever met. But she can’t deny the chemistry between them, and for once in her life she’s letting down her guard so she can explore a different side of herself. The side only Linc brings out in her.

Taking it slow, he unleashes her sexuality and it quickly occurs to him that what started out as a bet for him has become something more. With their weekend nearly over, and her ex showing interest in this new confident version of Lauren, Linc will have to risk it all if he wants to win the game of love.

Rion Ward fought hard to be free of the Irish mob life. Now, as the co-owner of Boston’s hottest aphrodisiac club, he’s traded crime for the ultimate sexual fantasy. But when the “good girl” from his past walks through Lick’s doors, he discovers that his unconsummated hunger for her never abated.

Widowed for two years from a man who felt that anything besides the missionary position was dirty, Harper Shaw is ready to move on. The first step to feeling alive again is sex. Hot, dirty, black-out-from-orgasm sex. And who better to provide it than the brooding, sexy, tatted bad boy-turned-man she’s known for years?

Rion, however, has one stipulation: He’ll be hers only for one night. One night to explore her every fantasy. One night to push her limits. One night to introduce her to a passion that makes both doubt if it will be enough…

“I’ll make you a deal,” the deep voice behind me says.

Steeling myself against his charms (aka, his godlike body and off-the-charts sex appeal), I turn around. Jesus, did he somehow get hotter in the last few seconds? Chance is like my own personal kryptonite. If I have any hope of surviving this with my dignity intact, I need to keep plenty of distance between us and kindly dismiss him from my apartment.

No problem. Here I go.

“What kind of deal?”

Damn it!

“The kind where I fix your sink, and you let me dance for you.”

That gets my attention. “Fix my sink?”

He nods. “If you let me dance for you afterward.”

“How do you even know you can fix it?”

“Let’s say I’ve been around the handyman block.”

I snort. “I’ll just bet you have.”

Ignoring my tiny barb, he asks, “Do we have a deal?”

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms, preparing to haggle. I really, really want my sink fixed. “So, you’ll do that, and all I have to do is let you dance for me? As in, from across the room?”

Chance crosses his arms like mine, though he actually appears intimidating whereas I’m lucky if I pass for indifferent. “As in, you sit, and I dance the way I always do. Very up-close and very personal.”

Shit shit shit. There’s no universe in which Chance grinds all over me where we don’t end up screwing like rabbits. Not if what happened a few minutes ago is anything to go by. But as much as I’d love to let go and have myself a much needed fling, a small part of me can’t help but wonder how many clients he hooks up with on a regular basis, and the idea of being another hash mark on his G-string doesn’t sit well with me.

In the end, I decide to go with the lesser of two evils— resisting sex-on-a-very-big-stick versus living with backed up water so gross it could be a middle school science experiment.

“Okay, we have a deal,” I say, holding out my hand for a businesslike shake. “My sink for your dance.”

Chance steps forward and takes my hand, dwarfing it with his massive paw. But instead of shaking it like I intended, he lifts the front of his tank with his other hand and drags my palm down his bare chest, over his ripped abs, and continues past where his coveralls hang low on his hips. I snatch my hand away like his package is a hot pan, before it gets a mind of its own and starts groping instead of behaving.

My kryptonite chuckles. “Just thought you might want a sample of what’s to come.”

There he goes again, using the word “come” all innocently, like he isn’t trying to put thoughts of orgasms in my head. Okay, he probably isn’t doing that in the least. But as he winks at me and ambles toward the bathroom, I have to wonder if maybe that wasn’t his intention after all. Oh, and I was right. His skin? Incredibly supple and touchable.

I. Am so. Screwed.

Gina L. Maxwell is a full-time writer, wife, and mother living in the upper Midwest, despite her scathing hatred of snow and cold weather. An avid romance novel addict, she began writing as an alternate way of enjoying the romance stories she loves to read. Her debut novel, Seducing Cinderella, hit both the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists in less than four weeks, and she’s been living her newfound dream ever since.

When she’s not reading or writing steamy romance novels, she spends her time losing at Scrabble (and every other game) to her high school sweetheart, doing her best to hang out with their teenagers before they fly the coop, and dreaming about her move to sunny Florida once they do.

Website • Twitter • Facebook • Pinterest • Instagram • Goodreads

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Kristin Miller writes sweet and sassy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance of all varieties. Kristin has degrees in psychology, English, and education, and taught high school and middle school English before crossing over to a career in writing. She lives in Northern California with her alpha male husband and their two children. You can usually find her in the corner of a coffee shop, laptop in front of her and mocha in hand, using the guests around her as fuel for her next book.

Website • Twitter • Facebook • Pinterest • Goodreads

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cathryn Fox is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie) pizza and red wine. Cathryn has two teenagers who keep her busy and a husband who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. When not writing, Cathryn can be found laughing over lunch with friends, hanging out with her kids, or watching a big action flick with her husband.

Website • Twitter • Facebook • Pinterest • Goodreads

Naima Simone’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey, Sandra Brown and Linda Howard many years ago. Well not that many. She is only eighteen…ish. Though her first attempt at a romance novel starring Ralph Tresvant from New Edition never saw the light of day, her love of romance, reading and writing has endured. Published since 2009, she spends her days—and nights— creating stories of unique men and women who experience the first bites of desire, the dizzying heights of passion, and the tender, healing heat of love.

She is wife to Superman, or his non-Kryptonian, less bullet proof equivalent, and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, sometimes domestically-challenged bliss in the southern United States.

Website • Twitter • Facebook • Instagram • Goodreads