Julia Kent's Blog, page 2

I was super lucky and had a chance to read Misha Bell’s new rom-com. Grab a copy for laughs and love. Misha Bell does it again, with a laugh-out-loud opening that takes romantic comedy and puts it on steroids. I laughed, I swooned, but by the end of Sextuplet and the City, I was left with that cheesy smile you get when a book leaves you feeling good long after reading The End.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Or does it?

Okay, let me explain. I broke into my crush’s dressing room to sniff his tights (not in a pervy way, I swear!) and got busted while, um… you get the idea. He then kind of, sort of blackmailed me into agreeing to a fake green card marriage with him. But hey, I’m not complaining.

Next thing I know, we’re on a flight to Vegas to make our friends and family think we had a crazy drunken night and, in the spur of the moment, tied the knot. Except… that’s exactly what happens. (Thanks a lot, vodka.)

Considering that he’s the most desirable ballet dancer in New York City and I’m a garage-dwelling secret blogger with a major sweet tooth, there’s no way this marriage could ever become real. Not to mention my totally crazy family and my aversion to every smell under the sun—except his.

All I can hope for is to not fall in love with my husband. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3xp5xqI
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/3MsfRCO
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3H0S8so
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/3Q4Wt1F
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3NuvNFN
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3Q3OX7g
Google Play: https://bit.ly/3mnRpbe
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3Q5RCNF
Paperback: https://amzn.to/3Aiwpe8

 Listen to the audiobook!
Audible US: https://adbl.co/3PkPh0o
Audible UK: https://adbl.co/3O80nEA
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3PvYhjk

If you’re looking for a fun read about first kisses and second chances, featuring a hot single-dad police officer and his accidental nanny, set in a small town in New England, with a golden retriever named Jester, a heroine whose dream in life is to run a fairy camp, and a hero who wants to build a place where everyone belongs–then this is your book.

Grab a cup of coffee or tea, and maybe some edible glitter, and get your happy meter ready as you read the second book in the Love You, Maine, series–where love isn’t just a feeling… it’s a way of life.

✓ Standalone
✓ Slow burn
✓ Single dad widower
✓ Nanny/police officer
✓ Second chance
… and a golden retriever named Jester

Read Chapter One of Love You Again

It was the last time she ever had to deal with him.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

“What am I doing?” she muttered. White puffs of condensation punctuated her words, the ice-cold night crisp and clear. Returning to western Maine after years of living in Indiana and New York had been a stark reminder of what real cold was like.

No snow tonight, at least, which made this easier.

Kylie could use a little easier in her life.

The black plastic trash bags mocked her, all six piled up in a mess in her hatchback. Her ex-boyfriend, Perry, had spent the last three months avoiding all her demands to come get his stuff, and it was finally time to act.

Being dumped in August by the guy she’d been in love with for seven years, and lived with for three, had been bad enough. Worse had been the way he’d done it: by phone.

From Thailand.

What was supposed to be a two-month work trip for him had turned into a meet cute that Kylie would find unbearably adorable if it had been anyone but her own boyfriend. The call from Thailand had been unexpected, unbelievable, and life-altering.

“I–I know it sounds crazy, Ky, but Systina and I are–well, we’re soulmates. Real ones. I can’t explain it any more than that. Sometimes fate comes along and hits you like a lightning bolt, and this is one of those times. I have clarity now about who I am and how the rest of my life needs to be, and I’m so sorry. I really am.”

Perry had sounded more excited dumping her than he ever had when he’d claimed to love her.

The call had lasted 7 minutes, 13 seconds.

Her phone said so.

Six years ended in 7 minutes, 13 seconds.

Poof.

Never once had Perry uttered the words break up. He just blathered on about soulmates, and Systina, and how she was Swedish royalty with a Nepalese father, and that they’d met at a youth hostel jazz performance, and how Kylie needed to help him close his bank accounts in the U.S., ship his various and sundry personal items to him in Thailand, and basically become his executive assistant, wrapping up his life with her in a neat little bow so he could go out into the big, wide world with his true lightning-bolt soulmate and leave her behind.

The sad part? Kylie had done it. Most of it, anyway.

Until the rage kicked in.

On autopilot, she’d felt a deep sense of ethical responsibility to not lash out and be unreasonable. To show she was a more evolved adult than Perry. For three months, she had collected his vital records from his desk and couriered them to him in Thailand. She’d shipped items to his sister in California, no small feat from their tiny town in Maine. Jo at the post office in Fixby Hills gave her sad, puppy dog eyes every time Kylie came in with yet another box or thick, padded envelope to ship.

And the gossip mill got another half hour of filler for the day.

Sometime in late October, though, she snapped out of it. She bagged up the rest of Perry’s crap and called him and his sister with a single message:

“Come get the rest of your stuff. You have one month. Then I’m donating it to charity.”

No reply from either.

Here it was, exactly one month and one day since that message. As a courtesy, she’d sent one final warning yesterday.

No reply.

Exorcising Perry from her physical life was a much-needed rite, one she’d prefer to perform with a sage stick, wine, and her sister, Wendy, but this was a decent substitute on Thanksgiving Day.

She was grateful to be done with Perry.

Tossing a hatchback’s worth of his junk into a charity donation bin would be a great way to lose fifty pounds or so.

She patted her thighs.

Who was she kidding? After this, she’d go back to her apartment, eat the rest of the pumpkin pie she’d had for Thanksgiving dinner, cry, then watch Elf.

And laugh.

The thought made her smile as she reached for the first bag, an overstuffed monstrosity that puffed when she grabbed it, the scent of Perry’s aftershave wafting up. Three months ago, she’d have sobbed, but now?

Now, she just saw red.

Deke’s Service Station and Breakfast Diner was deserted but it would be bustling early with the five a.m. construction crowd, guys coming in for a fill-up, pack of ciggies, and some coffee from the counter. Maybe a nice fresh donut, or a packaged bear claw pastry. Perhaps a full breakfast if they had time, eggs and hash browns or pancakes all served with ruthless efficiency and wisecracks that only come from one local to another.

This time of night, though, it was creepily quiet, the new moon shining down like it was trying to protect her.

From what? Humiliation?

Too late.

Clutching the first big bag, she reached up for the donation bin’s handle, a two-foot-wide bar that you pulled down to reveal an opening that the bags could be tossed into. It reminded her of returning library books, though she hated having that pleasant experience tainted by Perry and his whole “finding himself” experience in Thailand.

Oh, sure. He found himself, all right.

Found himself inside Systina the Wundersoulmate. Perry had never been an introspective guy, so she knew exactly what part of him he found “deep” inside Systina.

“Cathartic,” she whispered. “This is going to be so cathartic.”

As Kylie stood, holding the bar with one hand, the bag in the other, she pondered for a moment, then acted. Wedging her left elbow into the pull-down door to hold it open, she heaved the bag up to the door, hands on the broad side of it, and shoved.

Hard.

“FREE!” she called out. “I’m FREE OF YOU, PERRY!”

Except she pushed with a little too much force, a little too much gusto. Her car keys and phone apparently decided they, too, would be free.

In abject horror, Kylie watched them disappear into the steel container and tumble five feet down, swallowed by the dark, empty space. Her breath formed a white billow of anxiety as she screamed one word.

Like FREE, it started with the letter F.

~~~

Available in ebook / audio / print at your favorite retailer.

Amazon:  https://mybook.to/LYA_AznALL
Apple Books:  https://mybook.to/LYA_AppleBooks
Kobo:  https://mybook.to/LYA_Kobo
Nook:  https://mybook.to/LYA_Nook
Google Play:  https://mybook.to/LYA_GP
Print:  https://mybook.to/LYA_Print
Website:  https://mybook.to/LYA_JKAwebsite

Narrated by Erin Mallon and Teddy Hamilton

Audible:  https://mybook.to/LYAAud
Amazon Audio:  https://mybook.to/LYA_AznAudio
iTunes:  https://mybook.to/LYA_AppleAudio

Mallory (Fluffy), Persephone (Perky), Fiona (Feisty), and Hastings (Hasty) come from the small town of Anderhill, Massachusetts, with lives that take sudden turns as they get surprise “do-overs” when it comes to second chance love.

This boxed set features New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent’s first three books in the series, starting with the prequel, Little Miss Perfect, which takes place ten years before Book 1, when Mallory Monahan and Will Lotham competed for valedictorian in high school.

The nerd and the quarterback have a tantalizing encounter, but what happens when they meet ten years later is unbelievable…

Which brings us to Fluffy — how Will and Mallory reconnect is a tale of mishaps, misunderstandings, and Mallory’s innocent mistake in thinking a job on Craigslist for a “fluffer” meant a house designer.

Oops.

This boxed set continues with Perky, another second-chance “do-over” for Persephone and Parker. Five years ago, he released very, very private photos that turned Perky into a social media sensation in the worst way possible. Hurt and betrayed, she’s blocked him from her life and her heart.

But what if he didn’t do it?

And surprise! He’s a member of Mallory and Will’s wedding party, too.

Second chances and do-overs never felt so good…

The Do-Over Boxed Set is a romantic comedy binge read. Get ready for a massive laughfest escape!

**Get the boxed set audiobook, narrated by Audie award winner Erin Mallon**

Amazon:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_AznALL

Apple Books:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_AB

Kobo:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_Nook

Nook:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_Nook

Google Play:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_GP

Audible:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_Audible

Amazon Audio:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_AznAudio

iTunes:  https://mybook.to/DOBS0-2_AppleAudio

I adore JJ Knight’s rom-coms for the oh-so-lovable heroines and hunky heroes. Her new release does not disappoint.

Royal Rebel is a standalone romantic comedy about a princess who breaks all the rules, overzealous donkeys that interrupt make-out sessions, and a hunky guard who thinks he’ll never, ever, limit himself to one woman — until he does.

You’ve never made a mistake like mine.

It’s bad enough being a bloomin’ princess.
It’s not all cake and tiaras.
There’s rules. Expectations.
Your internet is censored. Your cell phones are tapped.
And your father is literally king.

Mine made a law that no man between the age of seven and thirty is allowed to work inside the palace.

Which means I’m surrounded by kitchen staff, female guards, and a dusty old tutor named Maurice.

Now I’m twenty-three with zero experience around men. I’ve never even texted one.

But on the castle lawn, there are dozens of hunky new guards working out below the tower. I spy on them every day.

I’ve chosen one.
Kind. Beautiful. Strong.

I sneak through the underground tunnels to surprise him in the rose garden and tell him how I feel.

Except when I finally confess my love through the trellis, and we walk to the end of the hedge to begin our forbidden romance…

I realize I’ve accidentally propositioned the biggest playboy in the palace.

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3z3vTzQ
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/3NA2yB4
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3NIIJYf
Amazon AUS: https://amzn.to/3z2YNA4

 

 

 

Every summer TBR list needs a swoony highlander so grab a copy of Shopping for a Highlander for .99. Whispersync the audio for a few more dollars! Limited time deal so act fast!

I’m a professional chickenblocker.

Except “chicken” is a euphemism.

I get paid to follow a womanizing troglodyte who thinks rules are for other people and that my pants are the next pair he’s getting into.

Dream on.

Bet your first professional job didn’t involve babysitting an extremely hot, muscle-bound Scottish Highlander with an ego the size of a kilt and a libido bigger than his…well…

Chicken.

Keeping Scottish football (that’s ‘soccer” to us Americans) player Hamish McCormick away from inappropriate scandals while he does product endorsement campaigns is my mission.

No problem.

Until Hamish decides I’m his next scandal.

And maybe more….

Shopping for a Highlander is an enemies-to-lovers, slow burn romance that opens with a surprise kiss and ends with a happily ever after. This sports comedy in the New York Times bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire world contains no actual chickens, but it has plenty of locker room scenes, a fake relationship, very real banter, and more. You do not have to have read the previous books in this world, though after you read about Amy and Hamish, you’ll want to.

.99 at your favorite retailer

Amazon US: https://mybook.to/SFAHighlander_AznALLApple Books: https://mybook.to/SFAHighlander_AppleKobo: https://mybook.to/SFAHighlander_KoboNook: https://mybook.to/SFAHighlander_NookGoogle Play: https://mybook.to/SFAHighlander_GoogleAudiobook narrated by Shane East and Emma WilderWhispersync on Amazon:  https://mybook.to/SFAH_AznAudioAudible:  https://mybook.to/SFAH_Audible
iTunes:  https://mybook.to/SFAH_iTunes

LOVE YOU AGAIN ~ Coming 7.19.22Are you ready for a meet cute that involves a charity bin?
Visit the G1VE@WAY on my Facebook page for more fun: https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor/posts/564960494996332

An unexpected rescue rekindles an old romance between a single dad widower and a woman caught in a small town scandal that made her flee the one place where she belongs. Can a second chance at first love end in a happily ever after?

Luke Luview has given up on love. Finally ready to let go of his late wife’s clothes, the grieving small-town police officer and single dad thinks he’s hearing things when he opens the charity box door. Who knocks from the inside of a donation bin?

The raccoon he assumes is in there turns out to be way prettier – and very familiar. Rescuing the first girl he ever kissed means life has dealt him a wild card with Kylie Hood, his late wife’s best friend who left town suddenly fifteen years ago under a cloud of scandal.

Kylie Hood will never depend on a man again. Dumped by her boyfriend and fired by his parents from her children’s programming job at their ski resort in rural Maine, she hits rock bottom while throwing out her ex’s clothes — along with her phone and car keys.

Being rescued by Luke Luview, of all people, is a gift and a curse. The boy she once loved is now all grown up, everything her ex wasn’t – and absolutely off limits.

Accepting his offer to be his temporary nanny while she job searches in New York City, Kylie falls hard for his sweet daughter, and even harder for Luke. A clause in her employment contract means they can’t fraternize, but fate has other plans, and forbidden fruit is twice as sweet.

As the town she reluctantly left years ago accepts her more and more, and Luke makes it clear he wants ta second chance with her in their close-knit community, Kylie has to decide: an exciting new career in Manhattan on her own, or an instant family and a sense of belonging in her small hometown?

And as Luke wrestles with the pain of being left behind by his wife’s accidental death, he has to balance his responsibilities to his daughter with his own needs. Needs he’s ignored for far too long.

Needs only Kylie can meet.

But not if she leaves.

Can Luke and Kylie rekindle their first love and find a new future together in a place where love conquers all?

If you’re looking for a fun read about first kisses and second chances, featuring a hot single-dad police officer and his accidental nanny, set in a small town in New England, with a golden retriever named Jester, a heroine whose dream in life is to run a fairy camp, and a hero who wants to build a place where everyone belongs–then this is your book.

Grab a cup of coffee or tea, and maybe some edible glitter, and get your happy meter ready as you read the second book in the Love You, Maine, series–where love isn’t just a feeling… it’s a way of life.

✓Standalone
✓Slow burn
✓Single dad widower
✓Nanny/police officer
✓Second chance
… and a golden retriever named Jester

Amazon US: https://mybook.to/LYA_AznALL
Apple Books: https://mybook.to/LYA_AppleBooks
Kobo: https://mybook.to/LYA_Kobo
Nook: https://mybook.to/LYA_Nook
Google Play: https://mybook.to/LYA_GP
Print: https://mybook.to/LYA_Print
Website: https://mybook.to/LYA_JKAwebsite

Add to Goodreads TBR List: https://mybook.to/LYA_GR
Add to BookBub Wish List: https://mybook.to/LYA_BB

Schedule your visit to Love You, Maine today and celebrate love with Rachel and Kell!

Love You Right is now available in ebook, print, and audio! Get your copy and discover Julia Kent’s new cast of characters in Love You, Maine ~ Where every day is Valentine’s Day!

A missed opportunity five years ago makes for an unexpected encounter now between two people meant for each other – but who square off in a very public battle of wills in the small town of Love You, Maine, where every day is Valentine’s Day. Can love conquer all in a town steeped in it?

Kell Luview refuses to be a sucker at love again. Five years ago, he left D.C. with his tail between his legs and his heart broken. Fiercely protective of his small town in rural Maine, he’s determined to save the family tree business and avoid his feelings at all costs, no matter how much he longs to solve the mystery of what happened in D.C.

L.A. native Rachel Hart hates being underestimated almost as much as she hates this small town. She has two goals on this trip: get out of the cheesy tourist trap of Love You, Maine with a completed business deal, and avoid running into Kell, her old friend from D.C. who never became an old flame because of a huge misunderstanding.

One that still aches.

When her rental car breaks down on a logging road and Kell comes to her rescue, it’s clear he’s a changed man – and not for the good. Grumpy and reserved, he pushes all her buttons, still stubbornly convinced she betrayed him all those years ago. He’s never forgiven her, and she’s never forgiven herself for carrying a torch for him.

An embarrassing incident gets the town gossip mill going when residents wrongly assume Kell and Rachel are the newest couple to find love in the most romantic place on Earth. But the townsfolk aren’t wrong for long…

As Rachel breaks through his defenses and charms the town, he faces his biggest fear: all those pesky feelings he’s been avoiding.

Because they’re all about Rachel now.

And maybe they always were.

Can Kell and Rachel fight their growing attraction in the one place in the world where you can’t avoid love?

If you’re looking for a fun read about enemies to lovers, forced proximity, heroines who get their comeuppance and sworn bachelors felled by unexpected true love, featuring a hot bearded lumberjack impervious to poison ivy, and a city-slicker, jaded career woman with a penchant for great coffee, set in a small town in New England – then this is your book.

Grab a cup of (properly good) coffee, a can of hot cocoa mix, a jar of Fluff and maybe some calamine lotion (just in case), and get your happymeter ready as you read the very first book in New York Times bestselling romantic comedy author Julia Kent’s Love You, Maine series – where love isn’t just a feeling – it’s a way of life.

✓Standalone
✓Enemies to Lovers
✓Small town romance
✓Lumberjack and city slicker outsider
… and a cat named Calamine

Amazon: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_AznALLApple Books: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_ABKobo: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_KoboNook: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_NookGoogle Play: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_GPPrint: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_print Narrated by Erin Mallon and Teddy Hamilton Audible: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_AudibleAmazon Audio: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_AznAudioiTunes: [image error]https://mybook.to/LYR_AppleAudio Read Chapter One  Get Love You Wrong , the free prequel to Rachel and Kell’s story.

Surprise! I wrote a 41,000-word prequel to introduce my new series, Love You, Maine. The ebook is free and you can Whispersync the audiobook, narrated by Erin Mallon and Teddy Hamilton.

Get your copy of Love You Wrong today!

Two young do-gooders working to change the world find friendship and maybe more in a cutthroat business, but when the stakes are higher than they ever imagined, will a betrayal bring them together—or ruin everything?

Kellan “Kell” Luview is a new man. He left his tourist-trap small town and his dad’s business behind in rural Maine for a position at an environmental policy think tank in Washington, D.C. More comfortable climbing trees than talking about them, he’s determined to stretch his wings as he builds a new life with an ambitious girlfriend and smart friends who are just as dedicated as he is.

Despite his love for his work and the excitement of D.C., he feels pulled in too many directions when his girlfriend Alissa starts acting weird, his best friend Rachel needs an embarrassing, public rescue, and his mom hints that things are not going well at home in Luview–“Love You”–Maine, where every day is Valentine’s Day.

As a shocking betrayal shakes the very foundation of everything he believes in, Kell must decide who to trust, who to challenge, who needs him most—and figure out fast whether Rachel’s warnings about his girlfriend are credible.

Or yet another tactical maneuver in a city founded on them.

Unraveling the mystery of who to believe pits Kell against Rachel in a battle where the truth is uncertain and hearts are just collateral damage as ambition rules over feelings.

But Kell’s had enough.

More than enough.

Time to decide what kind of man he is—and who to trust.

Love You Wrong is a novel-length prequel (40,000 words), introducing New York Times bestselling romantic comedy author Julia Kent’s new Love You, Maine series. If you love rom coms about friends who are meant for more, deep intrigue, big misunderstandings, tests of loyalty, and small town/big city clashes, then pick up this prequel and try out a new-to-you series.

➜Amazon: https://mybook.to/LYW_AznALL➜Apple Books: https://mybook.to/LYW_AB➜Kobo: https://mybook.to/LYW_Kobo➜Nook: https://mybook.to/LYW_Nook➜Google Play: https://mybook.to/LYW_GP➜Print: https://mybook.to/LYW_Print➜Audible: https://mybook.to/LYW_Audible➜Amazon Audio: https://mybook.to/LYW_AznAudio➜Apple Audio: https://mybook.to/LYW_AppleAudio

Read all the books in the Love You, Maine series:

Love You Right – April 2022

Love You Again – July 2022

Love You More – October 2022

Love You Now – Winter 2023

A missed opportunity five years ago makes for an unexpected encounter now between two people meant for each other–but who square off in a very public battle of wills in the small town of Love You, Maine, where every day is Valentine’s Day. Can love conquer all in a town steeped in it?

Kell Luview refuses to be a sucker at love again. Five years ago, he left D.C. with his pride severely wounded and his heart broken. Fiercely protective of his small town in rural Maine, he’s determined to save the family tree business and avoid his feelings at all costs, no matter how much he longs to solve the mystery of what happened in D.C.

L.A. native Rachel Hart hates being underestimated almost as much as she hates this small town. She has two goals on this trip: get out of the cheesy tourist trap of Love You, Maine, with a successful business deal, and avoid running into Kell, her old friend from D.C. who never became an old flame because of a huge misunderstanding.

One that still aches.

When her rental car breaks down on a logging road and Kell comes to her rescue, it’s clear he’s a changed man–and not for the good. Grumpy and reserved, he pushes all her buttons, still stubbornly convinced she betrayed him all those years ago. He’s never forgiven her, and she’s never forgiven herself for carrying a torch for him.

A very publicly embarrassing incident gets the town gossip mill going when residents wrongly assume Kell and Rachel are the latest couple to find love in the most romantic place on Earth. But the townsfolk aren’t wrong for long…

As Rachel breaks through his defenses and charms the town, he faces his biggest fear: all those pesky feelings he’s been avoiding.

Because they’re all about Rachel now.

And maybe they always were.

Can Kell and Rachel fight their growing attraction in the one place in the world where you can’t avoid love?

If you’re looking for a fun read about enemies to lovers, forced proximity, heroines who get their comeuppance and sworn bachelors felled by unexpected true love, featuring a hot bearded lumberjack who’s impervious to poison ivy and a jaded urban career woman with a penchant for great coffee, set in a small town in New England–then this is your book.

Grab a cup of (properly good) coffee, a can of hot cocoa mix, a jar of Fluff, and maybe some calamine lotion (just in case), and get your happy meter ready as you read the very first book in New York Times–bestselling romantic comedy author Julia Kent’s Love You, Maine series–where love isn’t just a feeling, it’s a way of life.

Standalone
Slow burn
Enemies to Lovers
Small town romance
Lumberjack and city slicker outsider
… and a cat named Calamine

 

Chapter One

First week of February
Rachel

The death rattle under the car’s hood was the sound of her career dying.

Rachel Hart was driving up an impossible incline on a dirt road that forked off State Route 33 on the outskirts of Luview, Maine, a dinky backwater town she had never, ever wanted to set foot in. 

But here she was, brought from Los Angeles by a work project.

And her own sheer stupidity.

“No!” she ordered the car, as if it were her assistant. “You are not allowed to break down. You are not allowed to make that sound.”

She pressed down on the accelerator and the car began to lurch, as if it begged to differ.

“I’m eleven miles from town. Come on. You just have to make it eleven more miles,” she encouraged as the car began to cough.

Cough. Like her Grandma Hart, sucking on Virginia Slims back in the 1990s.

The speedometer dropped from thirty to twenty-seven to twenty-three, gravity and some faulty piece of metal or plastic or some sensor–whatever those were–making the car slow down.

And ruining her life.

“You cannot do this. You have to work. Have to! I did not fly from L.A. to Boston and rent this dumpy car to drive three hours into the backwoods of Maine only to have this happen. THIS! IS! NOT! HAPPENING!”

The car halted. Bam. Just like that.

As if it decided to go on strike.

Rachel’s gaze cut to the backseat, filled with her luggage. There was more in the trunk. Her boss had dangled this assignment in front of her three weeks ago, the memory painful now

She put the car in park and began gently banging her forehead against the steering wheel.

Luview, Maine–“Love You, Maine”–was the silliest place on Earth. Known as the town where “Every Day is Valentine’s Day,” it was a cheesy tourist trap, the worst parts of the Poconos, Niagara Falls, and Vegas all put in a Vitamix, pureed, and poured out into heart-shaped molds.

Much like the chocolate her entire career now relied on.

Yes, chocolate.

And the same chocolate that was to blame for why she was here.

Even worse, Luview, Maine, was the hometown of the most enigmatic, elusive, and frustratingly maddening man in her life:

Kell Luview, a former co-worker.

A former friend.

A former… well, a former.

As in the past.

Good thing he hated living in a small town. He’d taken to big-city life when they’d worked together in Washington, D.C. Plus, she knew through back channels that he didn’t live there.

Kell Luview was living his best life right now, Rachel knew, somewhere in L.A. or Chicago, or maybe still in D.C. 

Possibly even London, or Toronto.

Anywhere but here.

Whew.

Why was she thinking about the guy she almost kissed five years ago? The guy who rescued her from near death in a lemur costume? The guy who didn’t believe her when she decided to warn him that his girlfriend at the time–half a decade ago–was just using him for access to his powerful uncle in Maine government?

Huh. Maybe she was thinking about Kell Luview because her rental car had just died eleven miles from the town named after his great-great-great-grandfather.

“Okay, okay, okay,” she whispered to herself. “Think. You have gotten yourself out of worse messes than this. Remember the time that sewer rat got into the building and nearly destroyed the Kardashian yoga shoot? You caught it with nothing but your own bare hands and an Armani jacket. Have confidence. Confidence, Rachel. You can fix this.”

Pressing the ignition button, she willed it to start.

Nothing.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

“I trust the universe,” she said aloud, lying through gritted teeth. “I breathe in panic, and I breathe out calm.”

Inhale through the nose, imagining the cloud of fear emanating from her being sucked in like a kitchen fan absorbing a burnt dinner.

Exhale a fine, warm mist of love, wrapping her in safety and goodness.

Inhale failure and frustration.

Exhale success and achievement.

Inhale all that is broken with the world, including the car’s engine. 

Exhale a connectedness with the eternal peace of the wise mind.

She did the cycle three times, following her business coach’s instructions.

And then she tried the ignition again.

Nothing.

“YOU STUPID, USELESS BUCKET OF BOLTS!” she screamed, clutching the steering wheel and shaking it.

That felt so much better than all that trusting the universe crap. Sometimes, anger was the appropriate response.

More than appropriate now.

Although it was futile, she reached for her phone.

No Service.

The car was broken.

Her phone had no signal.

She was eleven miles from this state’s version of “civilization.”

The truth asserted itself, like it or not.

Rachel Hart was stuck on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.

And her bladder chose that moment to announce that it needed a wee bit of attention.

“OH, COME ON!” she screamed. 

The rental car’s interior was cooling quickly, her ski jacket bulky and uncomfortable. An L.A. girl like her only wore it for weekends in Tahoe.

Not for survival.

All the land around her was blanketed in a solid foot of beautiful, pristine snow as she stepped out of the car, keys clutched in her hand, and slammed the door, needing to pace. All around her, the land was blanketed in a solid foot of beautiful, pristine snow.

She never wanted this assignment in the first place. Her boss, Orla, offered it to her after a charity event where she’d met Rachel’s mom, fading 80’s television actress Portia Starman.

Portia had done some festivals and then a short-lived reality TV series here in Love You, Maine, and still gushed about the town, even when Rachel begged her not to. The memory of how Portia came to Love You was bitter and spiked with nothing but pain.

Her mother didn’t care. Not in a cruel way; she just literally didn’t remember that Rachel got her the festival gig because she was good friends with Kell Luview and had “met” his mom, Deanna, on FaceTime.

While Deanna was wearing a red lips costume inspired by TheRocky Horror Picture Show, but never mind that.

“Why am I thinking about this?” she moaned, shoving the ridiculous memory out of her head as she paced, her suede UGGbooties sinking into the snow as she walked, the chunky high heels forcing her calves to work twice as hard. 

Fashionable, warm, and reasonably functional, the boots were a fine choice when she bought them in L.A. At the time, she thought this trip would be a breeze, a three-day pop-in while she convinced the owners of Love You Chocolate to sell to Markstone’s, the international chocolatier she worked for, who was looking to grab market share in the U.S. by leveraging the small-town, feel-good image of Love You, Maine.

Breaking down on an icy logging road was not part of the plan.

Her new boots, cute in the store, pinched the tips of her toes, which now doubled as frozen grapes. Could body parts get this cold and not fall off? She tried to remember what you did for frostbite.

Crisp, impossibly fresh air assaulted her nostrils, like icicles had formed in there.

Snotcicles were not part of the plan, either.

Still aching from the long red-eye plane ride, waiting in lines, a two-hour luggage delay, and driving three hours north of Boston, she lifted her hands over her head and stretched. Her adorable ski jacket pulled up and her exposed midsection instantly froze, so she yanked her arms down hard. A twinge in her shoulder signaled a muscle spasm that rippled down her back.

No part of her body was okay.

No part of her mind was, either.

An image of Kell Luview standing on a city street, angry and righteous as he yelled at her the last time they were together, washed over her. His chiseled jaw. The closely cropped dark hair. Those beautiful slate-gray eyes. 

And when he wasn’t angry, that wicked, wicked smile. 

How they watched Nordic noir television shows together. The night he’d covered them with the same blanket while they munched on snacks and drank beers, having fun, just starting to hint at maybe, just maybe…

Except that last part wasn’t how everything had ended with him.

Instead, he’d stormed away from her, quitting on the spot, leaving her life with a big misunderstanding she’d never been able to fix. Hardening her heart had been the answer and, so far, it had served her.

Screaming a curse word into the woods only led to the flutter of bird wings as a bunch of blue jays scattered.

Halting in place, the realization slammed into her: I’m really trapped.

Mental inventories ran through her simultaneously, a symphony of panic in her brain. 

Food? She had two protein bars and the bag of mini pretzels they gave her on the plane. If calories ended up mattering, she had a box of cough drops. Flavored lip gloss? That must be edible, right?

Water? She looked around at the snow. Okay, not a problem.

A snowflake, lazy and erratic as it fell, landed on her nose. She looked up, searching for more. Where there was one, there were always others.

Heat? The car would provide insulation, and she had two bags full of clothes she could cover herself with in a pinch.

Bathroom?

She surveyed the area and groaned. No powder room here. Crouching by a tree wasn’t exactly her style, and in these boots, she’d be more likely to fall over and end up with her warm butt in the cold snow. Cryotherapy was a trendy spa thing back in L.A., but this was not how she imagined trying it out.

And suddenly, she really regretted that full waxing session she’d had three days ago.

Eerie quiet settled in as she began to pace again, the crunch of snow underfoot only emphasizing the silence. The cold was starting to chill her hands. A city girl her entire life, the only time she ever spent in the woods was on dates, when she pretended to be more outdoorsy than she really was.

This was unprecedented.

This was horrifying.

This was not her fault.

“Why did I do this to myself? No work project is worth this.” A flash of her family hit her, her brother Tim’s announcement that after graduating from the Air Force Academy a year ago and going into pilot training, his newest achievement was finishing his master’s degree in math in one year. 

He was on the road to becoming an astronaut, and that was a requirement. At twenty-two, he was on his way. Early graduation from high school? Check. Admission to one of the military academies? Check. Master’s degree in STEM? Check.

Tim’s life was a checklist to be conquered, moving him higher and higher toward actual outer space.

Their successful entertainment lawyer father had praised him on the Zoom call Tim had scheduled to deliver his news, the four quadrants of faces making Rachel hold her smile even as it killed her.

That call made her go back to her boss and ask for this project after all.

So, technically, this was all Tim’s fault, right?

In a family of powerhouse achievers, Rachel was the slacker. Her mom was impressed by the Kardashian project she worked on, but only because it got Rachel invited to an exclusive party and she brought Portia as her plus one.

Because Rachel had no plus one in her life.

Rustling sounds behind her made her turn, eyes scanning to pinpoint the location of the noise. A group of three deer in the distance looked right at her, big, black eyes staring back.

Deer weren’t carnivores, were they? Her pathetic memory of middle school biology made her think no.

No. Right? She wasn’t about to be attacked and eaten alive by a group of grown-up Bambis?

“You are losing it, Rach,” she muttered, her hushed voice enough to spook the beautiful creatures, who ran off and up a steep hill to her right. Down below, where the road forked and her GPS had taken her up this barely plowed road, she saw a squirrel skitter across the dark asphalt of the numbered state route.

She would have better luck finding help there. Basic survival instinct told her to walk down the icy road and go where there was likely to be more traffic.

Until she began her descent and her high heels betrayed her.

The crack of her tailbone on a patch of ice underneath light snow made stars burst behind her eyes, and not the kind you get from a great night of sex. 

Not that she knew much about that. Sex was a distant memory, her last relationship a friends-with-benefits deal that ended a year ago when her “friend” decided that stealing her emergency earthquake and wildfire money out of her nightstand was one of the benefits.

“Why?” she sniffled, not caring that she sounded like a whiny little princess. Who was going to judge her? A chipmunk?

One leg splayed to the left, the other was bent at the hip. She was lucky she could still walk. But the fall hurt, even if it didn’t break anything.

Except maybe a tiny piece of her will.

As she sat on the ice, a wet, cold feeling began to prickle where her jeans met the ground. She shifted her weight, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the ice was too cold for that.

Down below, the rumble of a car’s engine caught her ear. 

“HERE!” she screamed, still on the ground and definitely out of sight. Scrambling to stand up fast, she grabbed the wheel well, but there was nothing she could lodge her fingers in to gain a little leverage.

By the time she was up to a shaky crouch, the car was gone.

Each limb ached and cracked, her heart throbbing. She leaned against a tree for a moment, hands on her knees.

“There will be more,” she assured herself, one eye on the fading light of day. Her red-eye flight left L.A. last night at midnight. She arrived at 8:30 this morning and went to the Markstone’s Boston office to say hello and do a little work. Then she got on the road, and it was now 3:30 p.m. Eastern Time, which meant she had been awake for…

Ever. She’d been awake for freaking ever.

On her feet but bent over, her slightly damp butt poking out as she clutched the car door handle, she gingerly took one step forward.

And began to slip down the hill.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Clawing at the tiny little pine trees that poked out from the piles of white snow, she finally grabbed one with deep enough roots that it held her weight, her boot heels sliding down as her body elongated, knees hitting the pressed-down snow, her body going belly-flat on the ground.

Just then, the rumble of a car engine cut through her consciousness. If the tiny branch she was clinging to didn’t hold, she would slide right under the car as it approached.

This was how Rachel was going to die. Stupidly, too young, and with really bad hair.

Head turned and cheek flat against the road, her arms were up above her head, both hands ice-cold now, gloveless and white knuckled. Her ski jacket pulled up, exposing her bare belly under her sweater, and she began to shiver as the front of her jeans pressed into the snow.

“HELP!” she yelled, relieved that a car had appeared, terrified that it might flatten her like a pancake.

The engine cut. A door opened, then slammed. Footsteps became louder.

“Hey, there. You need some assistance?” The gruff voice didn’t sound friendly at all but at this point, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Rachel was on her belly and couldn’t see him. 

“Nope! I’m just fine!” she shouted back. “I like to hang onto tiny little pine trees and single-handedly melt the road with my stomach. It’s a hobby.”

“Oh. Okay.” The footsteps faded, then a car door opened and closed.

The engine roared to life.

Sarcasm. Rachel wasn’t going to die because of stupidity. She was going to die at the hands of her own sarcasm.

“HEY!” she screamed as loud as possible, rolling over onto one shoulder, trying to sit up. Losing her grasp on the lifeline pine, she felt gravity begin to do its job. Slowly, inch by inch, she slid down the hill, one hip and shoulder pressed into the road. What she wouldn’t give right now for Spiderman hands, because her fingertips were useless at stopping her descent.

The guy cut the engine again and opened his door just as Rachel slid under it. She grabbed the corner, but it began to shut with her movement.

And then it didn’t.

A bear looked down at her.

A bear in human form.

His beard was very thick, and he was wearing sunglasses and a hunter’s cap with flaps over his ears. And he was enormous. 

Super-broad shoulders covered in classic red-and-black flannel, a black down vest, the guy had the equanimity of someone who knew he belonged wherever he went.

The dude was a red-flannel bear.

“Come here often?” he cracked, shaking his head slowly. “The view is underrated.”

“This is a joke to you?” she shrieked. “I’m hanging onto the bottom of a car door to avoid sliding into a main road!”

He moved his feet so he was standing between her legs.

“There. That’ll stop you.”

Rachel felt the explosion build inside her, embarrassment mingling with something more. Something warmer. Something intriguing.

And something infuriating, too.

“Look, Mr. Dueling Banjos, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but your boots are the only thing keeping me from certain death. Would you do the decent thing and help me to my feet?”

“Preventing you from standing on ice in those stilts you call boots is doing the decent thing, lady.”

But he bent down and offered her a hand, his scent slamming through her, a mix of woodsmoke, spice, lime, and– 

A very familiar feeling.

On her feet at last, she grabbed his truck’s hood, the metal still warm. As she pulled off her hat and smoothed her hair away from her face, she realized he was staring.

Hard.

“You’re not from around here.” Did his voice go lower? Weird. 

“What gave me away?”

“Those.” He pointed at her designer boots. “And your condescension.”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me small towns in Maine don’t have condescension. Especially fakey-fake places like Love You, Maine, where everything’s heart-shaped and love is a commodity.” She sniffed, glaring at him. “And I’m not condescending. If I were, I’d call you a maple redneck.”

He stiffened. “That’s a strange insult. Where are you from?”

“L.A.”

“And you call my town fake?”

“You’re from Luview?”

“I am a Luview.”

“Isn’t everyone around here?”

“No. We’ve got the Bilbees. The Chens. The Kendrills. The–”

“Got it.” Biting her lips and tucking her ungloved hands into her armpits, she stared at the guy, fighting a weird attraction. “Look, Mr…”

“Deke.”

“Mr. Deke, I–”

“Just Deke.”

“Deke Luview?”

“No. Deke Bilbee.”

“I thought you said you were part of the Luview family?”

“I am. Bilbees are Luviews. A Bilbee married a Luview a few generations back and–”

“That’s cute,” she said, cutting him off with a flat palm, “but I flew in on a red eye out of LAX, drove up from Boston, and had my car break down. I am freezing cold and I just want a nice hot shower at the inn my assistant booked for me, the one with heart-shaped hot tubs and honeymoon Champagne packages. It’s been a very long day.”

“You’re here on your honeymoon?”

“What? No! I just had her book a honeymoon suite for me. Figured it would be the least offensive option for me here.”

“Mints on the pillow and all that?”

“Can you help me fix my car?” Rachel reached into her coat pocket and found her wallet, pulling out five twenties. “Here. Maybe this will expedite things.”

“Put that away.” He stared at the bills in her hand like she’d offered to pay him for something that could only be done at a motel that rented rooms by the hour.

“You want more? I have more.” Nervous shock hit her. What was she doing? All alone, broken down on a deserted road, and she was telling this huge dude who could snap her in two that she had more cash on her?

Every city-girl instinct had melted away when she fell on the ice and was single-handedly heating it with her butt.

Deke turned away and strode over to her car, opening the driver’s door to pop the hood. As he bent down, she got a nice view of his back.

And nicely muscular backside.

Something about his body made her think again of Kell, back when they’d worked together at the Earth Endangered Coalition, one of the biggest non-governmental organizations in the world. He’d looked nothing like this guy, but something about him pinged her radar.

Pinged a few unmentionable body parts, too.

“Are you a mechanic?” She checked out his white truck. A logo of three big, shiny, green leaves was on the side, with the words Pulling for You.

In smaller letters underneath was a tag line: We touch it so you don’t have to.

What the heck was that supposed to mean?

“No.” He pointed to his truck. “Read the door.”

“I just did. You’re a landscaper?”

“I pull poison ivy.”

“That’s a thing?”

“That’s a thing.”

“You have an actual business doing that?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. Who knew?”

“L.A. knows.”

“Excuse me?”

“L.A. A lot of my clients are from Hollywood.”

“Here?”

“Yep.”

“You’re joking.”

“Believe what you want to believe.”

“I want the truth.”

He just snorted, the sound followed by inaudible muttering as he rooted around under the hood.

Something about the sound rankled her, as if he were being hyper-judgmental. 

Of her. 

It was the kind of sound you make as an indictment. How dare he? He didn’t even know her.

“You’ve got a cracked radiator hose,” he announced from under the hood.

“In English, please.”

“The doohickey in your whatchamacallit is broken.”

Rachel let out an aggrieved sigh. “You would never say that to a man.”

“Sure I would. Plenty of men are as ignorant about cars as you.”

“I am not ignorant!”

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he stared at her, sunglasses mirroring Rachel’s reflection back at her. 

“Then you fix it.”

“I have no idea how to fix it!”

“Then quit trying to control everything. And work on your attitude.”

“I don’t have an attitude! But even if I did, it would be justified. I’m stuck on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, on my way to work on a project I don’t even like, and now I’ve got some Paul Bunyan wannabee insulting my intelligence.”

“Thank you.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Paul Bunyan comment. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You know,” she said slowly, looking at him closely, his tone ringing bells in her head, “you really do remind me of your cousin Kell.”

“My cousin?”

“You said you’re related to the Luviews. I assumed.”

“Smart. Because you’re right. I’m closely related to Kell. I remind you of him?”

“Yes.”

“Really? I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s such an asshole.”

Laughter poured out of her, unexpected and raw, the giggles lifting her heart.

“I don’t know about that. He sure was stubborn when I knew him, but not an asshole. Just very, very sure he was right, even when he was so, so wrong.” The sigh she let out at the end made him jolt a little, cutting a look her way.

“You know him well?”

“I–um–no.”

Eyebrows raised over the frames of his sunglasses. “That’s quite an answer.”

“I don’t know him now. I did.”

“You one of his ex-girlfriends? Heard he’s a player. Sleeps around. Public health nightmare. Let me guess–you had his baby a few years ago and now you’re here to make him pay.” He clucked his tongue three times.

“Kell?” Rachel frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the guy I knew. And no, I’m not here to surprise Kell with a secret baby.”

“Good. A town can only handle that happening so many times.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, actually, that did happen a few years ago with Brian Mulroy. But not Kell, no. He must wrap it so he’s not producing progeny.”

“Let’s change the subject.”

“You brought up Kell. Just telling you what he’s like.” 

“I suppose people change.”

“Naw,” Deke said in a low, gravelly tone. “They don’t.”

“You think we’re immutable? We should just throw our hands up and say, that’s just how it is, oh, well?”

“Sure. Life’s a hell of a lot easier if you accept reality.”

“That’s really depressing.”

“So is the broken part on your car. The reality is that you need a new radiator hose.” Tipping his chin up, he looked at the sky. “We’ve got about an hour to get you to town before dark. This car isn’t going anywhere but the repair shop. You need a hotel?”

“I have one already, thanks. Remember? My inn. One bedroom. I’m staying in Luview for a few nights.”

He let out a low whistle. “That must’ve been hard. You book it a long time ago?”

“I don’t know. My assistant booked it,” she answered, but now she was starting to wonder. Dani had sent her a flurry of emails about her hotel arrangements a few weeks ago, when Orla put her on the project, but Rachel had only skimmed them, just reading the itinerary and making a note of the address in her phone for GPS.

“On business, you say?”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

He reached into his truck and rummaged around in a small canvas bag between the seats. The only hint he was frowning came from his glasses shifting on the bridge of his nose.

“Allen,” he sighed. “Took all the duct tape again.”

“Who is Allen?”

“My assistant.”

“You have an assistant, too?”

“Not the same kind you have.”

“What does duct tape have to do with–oh! You’re fixing the hose! Well, it’s a good thing you can, because–”

He held up his hand. “Duct tape’s good for lots of other things.”

A creepy sensation started in her tailbone and snaked up her spine, tingling with dread.

Then he pulled out a plastic bottle of what looked like glue.

“Business trip?” he said again, continuing to pry.

“None of yours.”

“Lady, Luview, Maine, is so small, the American flag at the police station waves a little harder if a dog across town farts.”

“Thanks for that ringing endorsement of The Most Romantic Place on Earth.”

“We know each other’s business, like it or not. Strangers are part of the gossip mill, too, so I’ll know what you’re doing in town ten minutes after you start doing it.”

Deke leaned under the hood, a small gray tube the thickness of a banana in his left hand and a rag in his right. As he began applying the glue, she could see he was going to drip some on the engine.

“Watch out.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You said you’re not a mechanic, so how do you know?”

He just sighed.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Stretching, she tried to take it away.

“Stop!”

Who did this guy think he was? It was her rental car, after all. Her responsibility. Her stupid predicament. The glue tip was angled the wrong way, and if he didn’t turn it around, he’d get glue everywhere.

Then she realized it wasn’t the angle of the tip. There must have been a small puncture in the tube, because as he squeezed, it was coming out the wrong end.

“Look, Deke,” she said, trying to show him. He grinned when she said his name, and his smile sent a zing! through her core that made her heat up, hormones salsa dancing inside her.

Wait a minute.

Wait.

A.

Minute.

The tips of his fingers maneuvered the tube in exactly the worst way over the hose. Instinct made her jump forward; her boots didn’t help, but she began trying to brush the spilled glue off the hose with her hand.

“Damn it, Rachel, cut it out!”

Rachel.

He called her by her name.

A flood of emotion coursed through her, growing with every beat of her heart. Her nerves were already on edge, but this wasn’t fear. This was something warmer.

“How do you know my name?” she demanded. She had a good grip on the hose, but so did he, and he wasn’t letting go.

Stubborn guy.

“Let go,” he insisted, pulling on the hose.

“You let go!”

Already standing next to him, she moved closer, filled with a sense of the familiar, the exciting, and the strange, all at once. It left her dizzy and aching. Thick, wavy hair that curled at the edge of his collar gave the man a rakish look, wild and free, and mixed with that lush, dark beard, he was a true mountain man. 

One who smelled like woodsmoke, lime, spices, pine – 

And… superglue.

“This is ridiculous. Let. Go. Now!” he grunted.

She tried pulling her hand away, but her four fingers were stuck to the hose. His were attached just above hers. 

Shaking her hand hard, she tried to unstick herself, but all she did was cause pain, the cold skin on her fingers stinging as she moved. Using her free hand, she stabilized the hose and tried prying the tip of her index finger away, but the only result was resistance and a surreal sense of panic.

He stopped her by pressing his free hand down hard over the hose, careful to avoid anyplace where their fingers were attached, and he worked the tips of his fingers as well.

No luck.

“I never told you my name,” she persisted, wondering how she could seriously have been so stupid as to have missed that this was Kell. 

This was Kell?

“Must have read it on something in your car.”

“It’s a rental. And my purse with all my ID is under the seat.”

“Huh.”

Then his hat fell off his head as he bent over, trying to pry her hand off the hose. The sunglasses slid down his nose. Their eyes met, and she knew.

Knew.

His dark gray eyes were so familiar.

“Are you kidding me? Kell Luview? It’s really you? Why would you lie to me and tell me your name is Deke? What is this? What are you up to?”

She tried to get away, tried to pull away.

His hand came with her.

A sigh that sounded murderous turned into a low chuckle of disgust.

“Yeah, Rachel, it’s me. And look what you’ve done, again. Ruined my life.” 

“What?”

Those beautiful gray eyes narrowed. 

“Then again, that’s your superpower, isn’t it?”

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The Billionaire Shifter’s Club Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

Welcome to the most exclusive club in the world. The Novo Club. Novo is Latin for “change.” Our members prefer the word “shift” though.

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The price of membership is your heart and your secrecy.

All you need to do to join is to be loved beyond your wildest imagination by someone powerful with an…alpha side so primal it’s in their blood.

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Good. Then let’s begin.

* * *

The Billionaire Shifters Club is a paranormal romance series featuring the five Stanton siblings, four brothers and one sister who are all part of an ancient shifter family living in modern America. The subterranean club-within-a-club beneath the streets of Boston, Massachusetts holds secrets only the Stantons and their fellow shifters know.

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