An Excerpt from

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

Book Two: Independence Falls

by Sara Jane Stone

For Liam Trulane, failure is not an option. He is determined to win a place in Katie Summers’ life before she leaves Independence Falls for good. First, he needs to make amends for the last time they got down and dirty. But falling for his rivals’ little sister could cost him everything in the second installment of a hot new series from contemporary romance writer Sara Jane Stone.

“What are you going to do with it?” Katie asked, drawing him back to the present and the piece of land that proved he was walking down the path marked success. The equity stake in Moore Timber his best friend had offered Liam in exchange for help running the company was one more milestone on that road—and one he had yet to prove he deserved.

“Thinking about building a home here someday,” Liam said.

“A house? I would have thought you’d want to forget about this place. About us. After the way you ended it.” Katie raised her hand to her mouth as if she couldn’t believe she’d said those words out loud.

Liam stopped beside her, losing his grip on the goat’s lead and allowing the animal to graze. “I messed up, Katie. I think we both know that. But I panicked when I realized how young you were, and how—”

“I was eighteen,” she snapped.

“By a few weeks. You were so innocent. And I felt all kinds of guilt for not realizing it sooner.”

“Not anymore,” she said, her voice firm. Defiant. “I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No.” Liam knew every line, every angle of her face. There were days he woke up dreaming about the soft feel of her skin. But it was the way Katie had looked at him after he’d gone too far, taken too much, that haunted his nightmares. In that moment, her green eyes had shone with hope and love.

Back then, when he was fresh out of college, returning home to build the life he’d dreamed about, that one look had sent him running scared. He wasn’t ready for the weight of her emotions.

And he sure as hell wasn’t ready now. Eric had given Liam one job since handing over part of the company—buy Summers Family Trucking. Liam couldn’t let his best friend, now his business partner, down. Whatever lingering feelings he had for Katie needed to wait on the sidelines until after Liam finished negotiating with her brothers. There was too much at stake—including his vision of a secure future—to blow this deal over the girl who haunted his fantasies.

He drew the goat away from the overgrown grass and started toward the wooded area on the other side of the clearing. “We should go. Get you home before too late.”

But Katie didn’t follow. She marched down to the fir trees. “I’m twenty-five, Liam. I don’t have a curfew. My brothers don’t sit around waiting for me to come home.”

“I know.”

Brody, Chad, and Josh were waiting for him. Liam had been on his way to see her brothers when he’d spotted her car on the side of the road. They’d reluctantly agreed to an informal meeting to discuss selling to Moore Timber.

She spun to face him, hands on her hips. “I think you wanted to take a walk down memory lane.”

“Katie—”

“Back then, you never held back.” She closed the gap between them, the toes of her sandal-clad feet touching his boots. “So tell me, Liam, what are we doing here?”

He fought the urge to reach for her. He had no right. Not to mention bringing her here had confirmed one thing: After seven years, Katie Summers still held his mistakes against him.

She raised one hand, pressing her index finger to his chest. Damn, he wished he’d kept his leather jacket on. Her touch ignited years of flat-out need. No, he hadn’t lived like a saint for seven years, but no one else turned him on like Katie Summers.

An Excerpt from

SINFUL REWARDS 1

A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

by Cynthia Sax

Belinda “Bee” Carter is a good girl; at least, that’s what she tells herself. And a good girl deserves a nice guy—just like the gorgeous and moody billionaire Nicolas Rainer. Or so she thinks, until she takes a look through her telescope and sees a naked, tattooed man on the balcony across the courtyard. He has been watching her, and that makes him all the more enticing. But when a mysterious and anonymous text message dares her to do something bad, she must decide if she is really the good girl she has always claimed to be, or if she’s willing to risk everything for her secret fantasy of being watched.

An Avon Red Novella

I’d told Cyndi I’d never use it, that it was an instrument purchased by perverts to spy on their neighbors. She’d laughed and called me a prude, not knowing that I was one of those perverts, that I secretly yearned to watch and be watched, to care and be cared for.

If I’m cautious, and I’m always cautious, she’ll never realize I used her telescope this morning. I swing the tube toward the bench and adjust the knob, bringing the mysterious object into focus.

It’s a phone. Nicolas’s phone. I bounce on the balls of my feet. This is a sign, another declaration from fate that we belong together. I’ll return Nicolas’s much-needed device to him. As a thank you, he’ll invite me to dinner. We’ll talk. He’ll realize how perfect I am for him, fall in love with me, marry me.

Cyndi will find a fiancé also—everyone loves her—and we’ll have a double wedding, as sisters of the heart often do. It’ll be the first wedding my family has had in generations.

Everyone will watch us as we walk down the aisle. I’ll wear a strapless white Vera Wang mermaid gown with organza and lace details, crystal and pearl embroidery accents, the bodice fitted, and the skirt hemmed for my shorter height. My hair will be swept up. My shoes—

Voices murmur outside the condo’s door, the sound piercing my delightful daydream. I swing the telescope upward, not wanting to be caught using it. The snippets of conversation drift away.

I don’t relax. If the telescope isn’t positioned in the same way as it was last night, Cyndi will realize I’ve been using it. She’ll tease me about being a fellow pervert, sharing the story, embellished for dramatic effect, with her stern, serious dad—or, worse, with Angel, that snobby friend of hers.

I’ll die. It’ll be worse than being the butt of jokes in high school because that ridicule was about my clothes and this will center on the part of my soul I’ve always kept hidden. It’ll also be the truth, and I won’t be able to deny it. I am a pervert.

I have to return the telescope to its original position. This is the only acceptable solution. I tap the metal tube.

Last night, my man-crazy roommate was giggling over the new guy in three-eleven north. The previous occupant was a gray-haired, bowtie-wearing tax auditor, his luxurious accommodations supplied by Nicolas. The most exciting thing he ever did was drink his tea on the balcony.

According to Cyndi, the new occupant is a delicious piece of man candy—tattooed, buff, and head-to-toe lickable. He was completing armcurls outside, and she enthusiastically counted his reps, oohing and aahing over his bulging biceps, calling to me to take a look.