I'd always been told I had thunder thighs. Chunky, thick, beautiful – I embraced my curves just waiting for the right thunder god to come along and rock my world. Then Gunnar Larsson strode his tall, blonde, Viking butt through my bar doors. My thighs awaited his plunder. Walking into Ella Bronze's bar was the best decision I'd made all year. Fuck, all decade. The gorgeous bombshell had curves for days – the kind that made me drool. There was no way this seductive siren was escaping. Looked like it was time to do what my ancestors did best – take what I wanted. Warning: This over-the-top piece of fluff is inspired by big thighs, sexy Vikings and a desire to have your pussy plundered. Get thee a Viking and settle in – this instalove story will blow you right off course.

Erik Nappies, poop and so many sleepless nights I was pretty sure in some countries this would be considered torture and my kids could be tried for war crimes. Yep, I was now a dad. A dad who had no clue what he was doing. A dad who somehow ended up with two kids who weren't his but I fuc- er, I mean - gosh-darn I loved them. Only... I needed help. A LOT of help. My house was a wreck and I needed sleep. Badly. Enter Laura—the Queen of Clean. She had to be an apparition caused by my sleep-deprived mind. Cause god knew she was exactly what I'd always wanted in a woman, and one glance at her curves and pretty smile had me reconsidering the need for sleep. Laura Being offered my own TV show was a dream come true. As the Queen of Clean I had an opportunity to educate people about the importance of cleanliness. Only one look at my latest project and all I could think of was dirty, sweaty, filthy things. Erik Larsson is tempting me with sweet murmurings, beautiful babies and a helpless need for a spotless kitchen. The man knows my weaknesses... the only problem? I'm meant to be leaving for my next assignment at the end of the month. The Queen of Clean doesn't stick around... right? Warning: This hilarious read involves cute babies, gorgeously helpless men, and an appreciation for a clean house that goes over oh so well. Settle in greedy reader, you might need gloves for this delicious mess.

Rune What kind of crazy person doesn’t read? Apparently my new neighbour. She’s loud, sassy, flirty and infuriatingly, annoyingly cheerful. And a non-reader. The worst kind of human. So why is that when I dare her to enter the charity read-a-thon, I suddenly find myself carefully curating her list? And those books… they’re definitely not your momma’s romance. Gabby I’m used to people underestimating me. Normally I can brush it off with a laugh. But Rune? He gets under my skin. So when he make an off-handed comment that a non-reader like me shouldn’t bother with the town’s charity event, I can’t help but accept the challenge. Only these books are not what I remember from the school book list. Not. Even. Close. And Rune? Well I’m beginning to see him in a new light. Or, should I say, hear him? Warning: This sexy little number is inspired by hot books, men who read, and a slight exhibitionist tease. Get thee a man who knows how to handle you between the covers, and settle in—this steamy read will have you begging for more.

Liv Unemployed, homeless and pregnant - not how I intended to spend this Thanksgiving. To be fair, I quit my job, and no one could have predicted the flood in my apartment. The baby? Well, that's on me. A tipsy hook-up at my brother's wedding, a failed condom, and suddenly I'm stuck with my nemesis, Ian Campbell. The man is infuriating - he looks like a red-haired Big Foot, is built like a lumberjack, and acts like a refined laird of some crumbling castle. He's confusing, irritating and... kissable? No, no way. There is absolutely no possible universe in which I'm falling for the Sasquatch... right? Ian Liv 'The Harpy' Larsson is pregnant is my baby. How the good god did that happen? I mean, I know how it happened. Those memories don't seem to want to quit. But now she's in my house. And my car. And at my work. And we're going to pregnancy classes and buying diapers, and she's suddenly not so much a harpy as happy. Wait. No. Do I like Liv? Is this... love? Warning: This book is inspired by reality TV, strong scotch, and lumberjacks. So, get thee a man, a camera, and settle in—this read will have you questioning if hate is really such a bad thing.

Astrid I forgot to tell my family I wrote a novel. I didn’t think it would be that big a deal. Then a big name movie star raved about it and suddenly my face is splashed across morning talk shows, and producers are offering me millions for film rights. Enter Robert ‘Robbie’ Huynh—America’s rom-com heartthrob. He’s tall, dark, handsome, and Australian. He’s like all my weaknesses rolled into one delicious package. He's also the one who started this mess, and he wants my film rights. He wants them real bad. So we strike a deal; I'll sign the contract if he gives me full creative license. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Only this Christmas contract? It's got all the strings attached. Robbie I’m in a rut. An acting rut. Being typecast as the romantic lead is getting old real fast. I want action, adventure, mystery. I want Astrid Larsson’s film rights. And I’m not above using a little Aussie charm to get it. Only Astrid’s not at all what I expected. For a woman who writes crime thrillers, I expected someone hard, seasoned, rough. She’s the exact opposite, and she’s getting under my skin—big time. I need to keep my head in the game. After all, this Christmas, all I really want is… Astrid?! Warning: This book is inspired by Christmas movies, true crime podcasts, and a crisp Aussie accent. So, get thee a man, some mistletoe, and settle in—this read will have you jingling all the way to the bedroom.

“I think my husband wants to explore kink.” Rune owns a bookstore, which means he supplies me with all my reading needs. Only, lately, those books aren’t your momma’s reading list. They aren’t even your best friend’s reading list. They’re the kind of reads that you finish in bed with one hand under the covers, then talk about with other reading obsessed people in closed book groups on the internet. But here’s the catch, I’m kind of into it. Satan better help me, ’cause God’s ready to forsake this little deviant.