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Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

Titel: Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1
Autoren: Jasmine Haynes
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Jessica could see straight into Clay’s office. Her breath stopped in her chest.
    Ruby Williams was facedown on the desk, skirt pushed up over her butt, dark hair flowing around her shoulders, eyes closed, her red lips parted on a moan of intense pleasure. Behind her, Bradley Palmer slammed into her, each thrust shoving her across the desk.

    If you enjoyed this excerpt, here’s where you can find Revenge Sex , West Coast, Book 1 , Submitting to the Boss , Book 2 , and The Boss’s Daughter , Book 3. The Other Man, Book 4 coming Nov 2013.

    More Erotic Romance by Jasmine Haynes :
    Invitation to Seduction , Open Invitation, Book 1
    Invitation to Pleasure , Open Invitation, Book 2
    Invitation to Passion , Open Invitation, Book 3
    Twisted by Love , Reincarnation Tales, Book 1
    Kinky Neighbors
    Kinky Neighbors Two
    Double the Pleasure , Prescott Twins, Book 1
    Skin Deep , Prescott Twins, Book 2
    Take Your Pleasure
    Take Your Pick
    Anthology: Beauty or the Bitch & Free Fall
    Past Midnight
    What Happens After Dark
    The Principal’s Office
    Yours for the Night
    Hers for the Evening
    Mine Until Morning
    The Fortune Hunter
    Show and Tell
    Fair Game
    More Than a Night

    The Max Starr Series by Jasmine Haynes
    Dead to the Max , Book 1
    Evil to the Max , Book 2
    Desperate to the Max , Book 3
    Power to the Max , Book 4
    Vengeance to the Max , Book 5

She’s Gotta Be Mine Excerpt

    Jasmine Haynes also writes as Jennifer Skully, funny, sexy, poignant contemporary romances. Here’s an introduction to Jennifer Skully’s Cottonmouth series!

    She’s Gotta Be Mine
    Cottonmouth Book 1

    Copyright 2011 Jennifer Skully
    Cover design by Rae Monet Inc

    Dumped? For her husband’s high school sweetheart he hasn’t seen in twenty years? Roberta Jones Spivey isn’t going to lay down for that, no way. Instead, she decides to reinvent herself. The new Bobbie Jones—new haircut, new name, new attitude—will follow her soon-to-be ex to the small Northern California town of Cottonmouth. And there she’ll show him—and his sweetheart—what a big mistake he made.

    What better way to show him what he’s missing in the brand new Bobbie Jones than taking up with the town’s local bad boy—who’s also reputed to be a serial killer. Nick Angel is devilishly handsome and sexy as all get-out. In a word, perfect.

    It’s all going exactly according to plan...until a real murder rocks the little town of Cottonmouth. Of course, Nick didn’t do it...did he?

    ~Previously published in 2005 as Sex and the Serial Killer ~

    Excerpt

    A mixture of red dye and sweat trickled down her forehead, hovered on her eyebrows, poised to drizzle into her eyes. Soon to be blinded by runaway hair products, Roberta Jones Spivey could force nothing more than a mousy squeak from her throat. She was about to go deaf, too, from the hairdryer blasting her eardrums, and still, she couldn’t open her mouth wide enough to shriek. Any moment now, her hair would spontaneously combust. They’d smell the smoke first, then the aroma of singed hair, but by the time any of the umpteen stylists scurrying about The Head Hunter’s main salon came to her rescue, she’d be bald. If not charred to a briquette.
    Help me before my demise becomes a fifteen-second slot on a tabloid show . Now was not the time for a panic attack.
    Drip, drip, drip, from her eyebrows to her eyelashes. In a last ditch effort to save herself, she squeezed her eyes shut. Burning tears leaked out to mingle with the caustic fluids. She clamped onto the chair’s arms, a death grip, terrified that if she touched the stuff, she’d end up rubbing her flesh off, too.
    Someone. Please. Notice me .
    The bowl of the dryer was suddenly jerked up, cool air from the overhead fans wafting across her scalp.
    “Bobbie, honey, why didn’t you tell me the color was running?” Mimi was the only person who’d ever called her Bobbie.
    Roberta dragged in a breath of air to explain, then collapsed in a spasm of coughing as the stench of chemicals, dyes, perm solution, and her own terrified sweat swooped down her throat.
    Mimi’s shoes clicked-clacked away, then back again. “Here, drink this.”
    Water had never tasted so good. All Roberta had wanted was a new look. Okay, so she needed a new life, too. Instead, she’d almost died, and her heart was still pounding like the Pony Express. She handed the empty paper cup back to Mimi, who crumpled it, executed a perfect free throw into the trash can, then tugged at a

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