It was a hot summer day when I met him on the construction site next to my parents' house. Under the sweat and dirt, Manning Sutter was as handsome as the sun was bright. He was older, darker, experienced. I wore a smiley-face t-shirt and had never even been kissed. Yet we saw something in each other that would link us in ways that couldn't be broken...no matter how hard we tried.
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I loved Manning before I knew the meaning of the word. I was too young, he said. I would wait. Through all the carefully chosen words hiding what we knew to be true, his struggle to keep me innocent, and infinitely starry nights—I would wait. But I'd learn that no matter what you achieve in life, it means nothing if you suffer the heartbreak that comes with falling for someone you can never have. Because even though I saw Manning first, that didn't matter. My older sister saw him next.
Available on all retailers, including Audible. Learn more.
EXPLICITLY YOURS SERIES
“Pretty Woman meets Indecent Proposal in Explicitly Yours, a seductive series that’ll leave your heart racing.”—Louise Bay, USA Today Bestselling Author
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Lola Winters doesn’t think she can escape her life as a waitress— until she receives a shocking proposition from a sexy stranger. Wealthy businessman Beau Olivier wants Lola for a night, and in order to get her, he’s willing to make her dreams come true.
But what if one night isn't enough, and Beau isn’t ready to say goodbye in the morning?
Available on all retailers and coming to audio this summer. Learn more or download book one free!
SLIP OF THE TONGUE SERIES
Slip of the Tongue (#1)
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“Addictive. Painful. Captivating. Tumultuous. Juicy. Sexy. Slip of the Tongue is an authentic, raw, and emotionally gripping must read that I just loved. A highly recommended favorite of mine.”—Angie's Dreamy Reads
Her husband doesn’t want her anymore. The man next door would give up everything to have her.
Sadie Hunt isn’t perfect—but her husband is. Until Sadie finds herself in the last place she ever expected to be: lonely in her marriage. When rugged and sexy Finn Cohen moves into the apartment across the hall, he and Sadie share an immediate spark. And while Sadie’s marriage runs colder by the day, she and Finn burn hotter.
Slip of the Tongue is a forbidden romance that can be read as a standalone or as book 1 in the Slip of the Tongue series.
Learn more about Slip of the Tongue.
THE FIRST TASTE (#2)
“The First Taste is a delicious read that will have you craving seconds. I promise!”—Kim Karr, New York Times Bestselling Author
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Andrew Beckwith has already devoted his life to one girl—his daughter, Bell. As far as he’s concerned, she’s all he needs. Amelia Van Ecken is an independent, smart, and savvy businesswoman who doesn’t have time for sex, much less love. Andrew and Amelia are complete opposites, but on one thing they agree—relationships are overrated. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be rated X. Because when sharp-tongued Amelia and stubborn Andrew cross paths, sparks fly—and burn.
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The First Taste is a sexy, single dad romance that can be read as a standalone or as book two of the Slip of the Tongue series.
Learn more about The First Taste.
YOURS TO BARE (#3)
"Sensual, evocative, and spellbinding.”—K.L. Kreig, USA Today Bestselling Author
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Halston Fox’s journal is the one place she can be herself—as long as she can tie it up and put it away when she’s finished. But when a stranger in a coffee shop undoes the bow, he pulls strings that could unravel both of them.
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Yours to Bare is an artist-muse story can be read as a standalone or as book 3 in the Slip of the Tongue series.
Learn more about Yours to Bare.
Culinary Cock-Up
A Cocky Collective Short
Julie Johnson
When two cocky chefs at rival New York City restaurants clash over a famous chicken dish, sparks fly and sexual tension simmers. Can their relationship take the heat? Or will they go down in flames?
Copyright ? 2018 by Julie Johnson All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Culinary Cock-Up
Ask any tourist on the street about the busiest spot in New York City, they’ll tell you the same thing: Times Square. They’re wrong, though. Anyone who actually lives in this cockamamie city knows there’s no place more chaotic or crowded than the chef’s kitchen at a five-star restaurant in Midtown Manhattan on a Friday night.
Especially if I, Emmeline Pryce, am the one in command.
“Izzie, I said mince the garlic, not crush it,” I yell to the girl working the veggie-station, rolling my eyes as I move down the line. “And you’ll need to redo those tomatoes entirely. By coarse chop I was not referring to whatever you’ve allowed your hairstylist to do to your bangs.”
“Yes, Chef. Sorry.”
The knife in her hands trembles as her tempo increases, resulting in a mess of lopsided garlic chunks. It takes every bit of my self control to resist the urge to go over there and do the task myself. But that would only reinforce the reputation I’ve built for being, quote-unquote, intolerable to work for and, on the rare occasion, making the employees cry in the broom closet halfway through their first shift.
Spare me.
It’s called a French Brigade kitchen for a reason.
Male chefs frequently get away with being tyrants — I’m looking at you, Shmordon Shmamsey— and no one makes a peep about it. Meanwhile, we females are expected to coddle and comfort our way to the top, soothing our staff into basic competence instead of scolding them for lacking it entirely. Thankfully, expectations matter about as much to me as the nutritional merits of a Taco Bell burrito.
I don’t care about the words coming out of people’s mouths; I’m far more concerned with the taste of the food they put into them when they visit my restaurant.
Don’t give me that aghast look.
I challenge you to find a single head chef on the planet who isn’t a total control freak — at least, when it comes to the operation of their kitchen. Cockiness is part of the job. And I’m not talking about my frequent handling of raw poultry.
“Next on deck?” I call to the new guy running the pass, impatience creeping into my tone as I watch him flip through incoming order tickets. He’s greener than the parsley that garnishes my critically-acclaimed duck confit.
“Um, we—” He looks up at me, cheeks stained red, and swallows hard. “We—”
“We don’t have all day.” My eyes narrow. “Spit it out or start sending applications to restaurants where it’s acceptable to serve food forty minutes after the order comes in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My brows lift all the way to the edge of my tall white hat. “Did you just call me ma’am?”
“Yes, Chef. I mean, no, Chef. Never again, Chef.”
His babbles taper off as I stalk over and grab the stack of orders from his grasp. “I’ll handle the tickets. You—” I eye him speculatively. He’s in his mid-twenties, only a year or so younger than me, but he looks like he’s never stepped foot in a kitchen before this moment. “Go garnish the plates. Help Izzie with the veggies, if you can stop shaking long enough to hold a knife. Perhaps between the two of you, someone will manage to correctly chop a clove of garlic.”
“Thank you, Chef. I appreciate the opportunity, Chef. I won’t let you down, Chef. I—”
“Enough.” I hold up a hand. “Flattery will get you nowhere, nor will sucking up. Hard work, however, may convince me to keep you on my staff. So, go. Show me you can take the heat. Otherwise…”