Everything about Coleman Grant III oozes power and sex. And not the perfunctory kind either, but the sheet clawing, heart stopping, gasping for air after you’ve screamed so loud you can’t breathe kind. From his dark wavy hair that stands in an artfully rumpled mess, to the blue eyes that sear your skin, to his full, sensual lips – on the surface he’s pure perfection.
Too bad he’s an asshole. An arrogant, uptight corporate raider hell bent on destroying the environment one species at a time.
Everything about Olivia Ramsey screams hippie humanitarian. From her blond hair tied in a sloppy bun, to her faded jeans with the Bonnaroo patch sewn on the thigh, to her combat boots still splattered with mud from the previous day’s site visit.
So it makes perfect sense that they would get married. In Vegas. Stone-cold sober.
Cole needs a wife. Olivia needs to save an endangered species. But what starts as a marriage of convenience soon turns into a battle of wills and sexual tension. Love is a game, and Olivia and Cole are ready to win.
Cassandra Miller doesn’t have time for men. She’s far too busy trying to open a cupcake shop with her silent partner and best friend, not to mention catering her brother’s wedding. And let’s face it, it’s not like Prince Charming is going to stroll into the bakery and sweep her off her feet.
Henry has been a prince his entire life but for one wild wedding he wants to be nothing more than an “Average Joe”, or in this instance, “Average Hank”. However, when a case of mistaken identity and a batch of burned cupcakes ends in a night of passion, Cassie and Hank must decide if theirs is a recipe for disaster or the makings of true romance.
Cole is just the cutest!
Keep reading to see the full Love Note!
Dear Olivia,
As I write this you are firmly entrenched in what was formerly known as the dining room of my penthouse with your shoes strewn about the floor, your bare feet undoubtedly propped on the glass table, and enough research to keep the EPA elbow deep in paperwork for the next year. And while I can’t help but pity the next —What was it you called me? Ah yes, the next self righteous megalomaniac with an utter disregard for the environment — I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips when I think of the three months you spent harassing me into saving those snotty-nosed bats, all the while enchanting me like no other woman had before.
You are my wife, a title bestowed on you out of necessity, but one I hope you’ll retain forever out of love. But more than that, you are quite simply, my heart.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Yours,
Cole
Ann Marie Walker writes steamy contemporary romance and is co-author of the Chasing Fire series (Remind Me, Release Me, Reclaim Me) from Penguin Books. She and her writing partner Amy K. Rogers met online and instantly bonded over their love of alpha males, lemon drop martinis and British supermodel David Gandy. You can find her on twitter as @AnnMarie_Walker.