Brenda Jackson

<h3>Product Description</h3><p>When Shelly Brockman walked into his office, Sheriff Dare Westmoreland could almost taste the sweet, steamy passion they'd once shared. Then Shelly informed him he was the father of her son, the unruly preteen he'd arrested that day, and his fantasies turned to fury! </p><p>Shelly had returned to her hometown in Georgia to save her son from the mean streets of Los Angeles. Getting to know his father would be good for her son. But would being so close to Dare--the only man to make her pulse race--reopen a wounded heart that had never healed? Or, would this be her final chance to win Dare's love? </p>

<h3>Product Description</h3><p>For Erica Sanders, finding a soul mate was the easy part. Brian Lawson is the man she wants, and everyone agrees they're the ideal couple. <em>Almost</em> everyone. The one exception is Erica's mother, Karen, who prefers her daughter marry another man. Karen even hires a private detective to investigate Brian, but the truth he uncovers is the last thing she expected—a devastating betrayal that rips both families apart.</p><p>Convinced that her relationship can't be salvaged, Erica ends her engagement. Yet she has lingering doubts over her decision, especially once Brian's attractive single neighbor starts pursuing him. A chance meeting proves that the passion between Brian and Erica hasn't dimmed—but neither has the determination of others to keep them apart, or the shocking lengths Karen will go to in order to undermine her daughter's relationship.</p><p>As secrets old and new are revealed, Erica and Brian find themselves caught between the bonds of the past and an uncertain future, each making painful discoveries about who to believe and trust. Masterfully told and laced with the sensuality and drama that Brenda Jackson does best, this is an unforgettable story of relationships at their most complex, and how hard it can be to choose between living separate lives—or holding fast when love hangs by a silken thread.... </p><h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3><p>"Jo, tell me. Have wedding jitters taken a toll on you yet?"</p><p>Erica Sanders glanced across the table, thinking that only April, her close friend since junior high school, would have the nerve to ask her something like that with a straight face. April North knew her so well. She could tell Erica's anxiety and stress were mounting, only a couple of weeks from the engagement party at which the couple's families would officially meet. Erica was so not looking forward to that affair— unless her mother's attitude changed drastically.</p><p>"Yes, I'm a <em>little </em>stressed," she admitted. "My sanity is barely holding up. But it's to be expected of every bride, isn't it?" She figured if anyone should know, surely April would. After all, her best friend had walked down the aisle three times already.</p><p>"Umm, a <em>little </em>stress is to be expected of every bride. But in your situation..." April left the words unsaid.</p><p>Erica's mother was driving her crazy.</p><p>With one breath Karen Sanders would rant and rave about Brian Lawson not being good enough to marry her daughter, and with the next breath she'd give the wedding planner hell because she intended for Erica's wedding to be the social event of the year.</p><p>It would be a wedding befitting the great-great-granddaughter of one of the founding fathers of Hattersville, a small town of seven thousand, noted in the history books as one of the first cities for freed blacks in Ohio. Erica had lived in Hattersville all twenty-seven years of her life, except for her college years in Wisconsin. Living in another city those four years had opened her eyes to a lot of things, especially how closed-minded and snobbish some of the residents of her hometown were. But not all of the citizens were privileged. Her friend April had been born on the other side of the tracks, in the Fifth Ward—something Erica's mother liked to remind her of every chance she got. But to Erica, what side of the tracks someone was born on didn't matter, and her close friendship with April had always been special. Besides, April, who had always been a beautiful person, had gone from rags to riches and was now a world-famous model. That proved that anyone who put her heart and mind to it could become successful, despite her humble beginnings.</p><p>Needing to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the town even more than Erica did, April had traveled west to attend UCLA, where she'd met husbands one and two. Husband number three, whom she'd divorced a year ago, was someone she'd met in Great Britain.</p><p>"You know as well as I do," April continued to say while eating her salad, "that Ms. Karen's idea of a dream marriage is one between you and Griffin."</p><p>Erica knew that was true. Griffin Hayes's family, like hers, represented old money in Hattersville. Naturally some people, especially her mother, assumed she and Griffin would grow up and marry. There were those, again namely her mother, who figured that doing such a thing was not only politically correct, but would destroy some curse reputed to have been placed upon the two families that could only be broken by a marriage between them.</p><p>Unfortunately, nobody bothered to inform her and Griffin's hearts, since they just weren't feeling it. Their families had thrown them together so often when they were growing up that eventually they began thinking of themselves as sister and brother, rather than as a couple whose lives were destined to end in holy matrimony.</p><p>Although they'd tried dating while in high school, the fire was simply not there. Griffin had recognized it and so had she. That was when they'd made the decision to be nothing more than friends.</p><p>"Mom might as well get used to the idea that I will not be Mrs. Griffin Hayes," Erica said. "I most certainly have. Trust me. Brian is all the man I want and need." She doubted anyone, even April, knew just how much she meant that.</p><p>"Will he be flying in this weekend?"</p><p>A huge smile spread across Erica's lips and she held up two crossed fingers. "Let's hope. They've hired two more attorneys at his firm but he still has a large caseload."</p><p>She and Brian, an attorney at a prestigious law firm in Dallas, had met last summer while vacationing in Myrtle Beach. He had been out fishing on the pier one morning and she had been jogging along the shoreline. They had struck up a conversation, and he had invited her to breakfast the next day. A few weeks later, they had become lovers.</p><p>When the summer ended they decided to keep the affair going and, beating the odds, their long-distance romance had survived. Over the Christmas holidays Brian had asked her to marry him. She had accepted and now looked forward to her August wedding and her move to Texas.</p><p>Her mother had been in an uproar at the thought of her only child marrying someone other than a Hayes and moving away. Even now, months later, there were days Karen Sanders had problems coping with the inevitable.</p><p>"So how's your dad holding out?" April asked, breaking in on Erica's thoughts. "Has your mom convinced him to disown you yet?"</p><p>Erica thought about her dad, with his soft hazel eyes so filled with love and understanding. He had given her his full support—although he kept it low-key so as not to get her mother riled. But it was the little things he would say and do to let her know he admired the fact that she was doing the very thing he hadn't done, marrying for love instead of for the sake of preserving some legacy. It was no secret her parents' marriage had been arranged.</p><p>"You know as well as I that won't be happening," she replied. She and her father had a close relationship and things between them would always be that way.</p><p>A short while later she and April were walking to their parked cars, promising to get together several more times while April was in town visiting her grandmother. It was the first week of March and there was definitely an Ohio chill in the air, which made Erica tighten her shawl around her shoulders. The shawl, a Giorgio exclusive, had been a birthday gift last year from April.</p><p>Up ahead Erica saw the town's square, brightly lit and rimmed by a well-maintained lawn. The parks in the Fifth Ward might look deteriorated and in need of care, but here the statues of the city's forefathers were in perfect condition. It almost sickened her when she thought of the good citizens' priorities.</p><p>She glanced at her watch. It wasn't even eight o'clock and already the retail businesses had closed, leaving the area looking like a ghost town. The town had survived what would have been rough economic times when a few wealthy residents had come in and bought out the small, struggling businesses, which made the rich even richer and gave them tighter control and ownership of the town.</p><p>Even her job as head librarian and accountant at the town's historical library was nothing more than a cushy position created by her parents—mainly her mother—to assure the history of Hattersville was well preserved. Erica was constantly reminded that if it hadn't been for the forefathers—those free blacks who'd come from Canada—the town wouldn't exist.</p><p>For generations there had been a distinct line between the two groups of people living in Hattersville, the haves and the have-nots. Those that had money—the Hayeses, Delberts, Sanderses, Carters, Heards, Bakers, Cobbs and Stonewells— were those who owned major manufacturing corporations that employed thousands of people who drove into the city to work.</p><p>After giving April a good-bye hug, Erica slid into her car, a cherry-red Mercedes two-door that had been a birthday gift from her father a couple of years ago. After strapping on her seat belt, she was about to turn the key in the ignition when her cell phone rang. She smiled when she saw the caller was Brian. She wasted no time answering it. "Hi."</p><p>"Hi, sweetheart. Where are you?" he asked.</p><p>"About to leave Ryder's Steak House. April's in town so we did dinner." She paused a moment and then asked, "So, do you think you can get away for the weekend?"</p><p>She heard his chuckle and the sexiness of it carried through the phone. She immediately recalled the first time she'd seen him, shirtless and wearing a pair of cutoff jeans with a fishing pole in his hands. He had given her a flirty smile and she'd turned to mush. She had actually felt that smile in every part of her body, every pore and every single cell. That smile had transformed her into one hot and achy mass and on that day she'd discovered that the whole concept of lust was as real as real could get.</p><p>"Yes, I think I can get away," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "By the way, there's something waiting for you at your house."</p><p>A smile touched her lips. He had been known to send her thinking-of-you gifts through the mail. "There is?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>She wondered what he'd sent her this time. Last week it was a CD on which he'd recorded "Rock-a-bye Baby" in his deep voice like Barry White's as a way to lull her to sleep each night. "What is it?" she asked.</p><p>He gave her another sexy chuckle before simply saying, "Me. And now that you know, don't speed getting here."</p><p>How could she not, Erica thought after a quick gasp escaped her lips. They hadn't seen each other in over three weeks and she was filled with a deep longing that she knew would be getting satisfied in a big way when she saw him. Sensual shivers danced up her spine when she envisioned how that would be accomplished.</p><p>"Make yourself comfortable until I get there," she told him.</p><p>"I've done that already and I can't wait to see you, baby."</p><p>She couldn't wait to see him, either. "I'm on my way."</p><p>Before Brian could give her a hot response, one that would probably make her detonate, she clicked off the phone, started her engine and pulled out of the parking lot. With Brian in town her plans for the weekend had definitely changed. Everyone would understand.</p><p>Everyone but her mother.</p><p>Brian Lawson held his mobile phone in his hand a m... </p>

### Product Description **Friends...** Attorney Syneda Walters and fellow attorney Clayton Madaris are just friends...the last two people likely to end up as lovers. Syneda holds all men at arm's length because of the father whose name she never knew. Clayton has always been a playboy, and no woman has ever come close to keeping his interest for very long. **or Lovers?** Things suddenly heat up between them when Syneda impulsively accepts Clayton's invitation to join him for a Florida vacation, and is shocked by how much passion she feels. To Clayton, Syneda has become a temptation he cannot resist...and the woman he wants to share the rest of his life with. But getting her to trust again means finding a way to heal old wounds and convincing her, with all his heart, that she will always be eternally his. ### Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Your bed or mine?" Clayton Madaris glanced up from his meal and gazed into the eyes of the woman who'd asked the question. She was beautiful, and her sensuous proposition was something any man would jump at. No hot-blooded male in his right mind would ever think of turning it down. So why was he contemplating doing just that? An impassive expression masked his handsome features. His hesitation had nothing to do with the fact that he'd just met her that morning. Like him, she was an attorney attending a convention in D.C. He had come to enough of these conferences to be prepared for the expected. One would be surprised just how many unmarried, as well as married people took advantage of the three-day convention to engage in short, no-strings-attached affairs. In all his thirty-five years, there had never been a time when he'd been hesitant about making love to a willing woman, granted the situation wasn't a risky one. So what was wrong with him tonight? His dinner companion undoubtedly was wondering the same thing and had no plans to stick around and find out. He sensed her agitation with his silence. Her eyes narrowed. "I won't make the same offer twice," she said quietly. There was a feverish edge to her voice. Clayton nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. He knew her type. She was a woman hungry for physical intimacy. Her eyes had sent him silent, intimate messages all day. There was no doubt in his mind that although he'd just disappointed her by not jumping at her offer, she wouldn't give up on him. She would make the offer again. His smile was slow. "Sorry. Not tonight..." Evidently not happy with his response, she pushed her plate aside and stood, giving him a measured look. "Perhaps another time, then?" Clayton stared up at her before answering. "Perhaps." After she left he simply sat, quietly eating the rest of his meal and drinking his coffee. A short while later, after taking care of the dinner bill, he rode up the elevator alone to the fifth floor. During the ride he tried coming to terms with his sudden lack of interest in an affair. It wasn't like him to turn down any woman's advances or not make a score or two of his own. It definitely wasn't his style. Enjoying the opposite sex was something he had been overly fond of doing since his first time with Paula Stone when he'd been sixteen. So what was his problem now? The huge metal elevator doors swooshed open. Taking a deep breath he stepped out and began walking down the long hallway leading to his room. Opening the door to his suite, he walked into the sitting area, then through open double doors to the large bedroom. He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, looking at the king-size bed. No one, especially those who considered him a player of the third degree, would believe he'd actually slept in the huge bed alone. And definitely not by choice. He smiled as he pushed himself away from the door. There's a first time for everything, he thought, removing his tie and jacket and going into the bathroom. Peeling off the rest of his clothes, he stepped into the shower, dismissing the fact he'd taken a shower just before dinner. Since becoming an attorney over ten years ago, he'd discovered his most soothing moments were in the shower while warm water caressed his skin. It was during that time he possessed the ability to blank out any thoughts other than those needing his undivided attention. In the end, whatever plagued his mind was usually put in perspective. At the moment, he needed to think about why he'd just refused an offer of no-strings-attached sex. Adjusting the water, he picked up the scented soap and lazily lathered himself as he mentally analyzed the situation. For some reason, he was becoming bored with the way his life was going. Somehow he was getting tired of his routine of chasing and bedding women. He twisted his lips in a wry grin. Now that was a laugh, especially since the main reason he had constantly shunned any sort of commitment with a woman was the fear of that very thing—boredom. He was the type of person who found any kind of routine deadly. He'd always been afraid of committing himself to someone only to lose interest with that person and end up feeling trapped. His thoughts fell on his two older brothers, Justin, the physician, and Dex, the geologist in oil exploration. Both were happily married and neither appeared bored. If anything they seemed to be having the time of their lives with their wives, Lorren and Caitlin. Was it possible he'd been wrong? Was there a woman out there somewhere who could forever excite, stimulate and amuse him? He shuddered at the way his thoughts were going; shocked that he could even consider such a thing. His credo in life for the longest time had been "The only men who aren't fools are bachelors." But he couldn't help wondering why lately he had been subconsciously longing for more than a little black book filled with the names of available women. As the water from the shower pounded his body, he tossed the problem around in his mind, pulling it apart, analyzing and dissecting it. But he still couldn't come up with any answers. With a groan he turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Stepping out of the shower, he began drying himself off. There were a lot of questions to which he needed answers. And he knew those answers wouldn't come from taking just one shower. The main problem might be that he had been working too hard lately. Too many court cases and too many late nights spent poring over them. A tired body occasionally filled the mind with foolish thoughts. And what could be more foolish than the notion that he was longing for a steady relationship with a woman? Clayton shook his head to clear his muddled mind. What he needed was to get away for a while. He had some vacation time coming up. And it was time he took it. Syneda Walters looked across her desk at the elegantly groomed woman sitting in front of it. She schooled her expression not to show her irritation and annoyance—or her pity. Bracing her elbows on the arm of the chair, she leaned forward. "Ms. Armstrong, I hope you'll reconsider your decision." "But he has told me he's sorry about everything and really didn't mean to hurt me. He's been under a lot of stress lately. He loves me." Syneda sighed, letting her well-manicured fingers run agitatedly over the desk surface. She could barely restrain herself from calling the woman all kinds of fool for letting a man abuse her. Yet the woman sat defending a man who evidently got his kicks using her as a punching bag. Rubbing the ache at the back of her neck, Syneda stared beyond the woman and out the window. It was a beautiful day in early May. The midday sun slanted across the sky and reflected off another building. Its golden rays gleamed brilliantly in the blue sky. She watched as a flock of birds flew by and wished she could somehow fly away with them. "Ms. Walters?" Syneda's eyes again rested on the woman's tear-stained face. The bruises hadn't quite faded and were not adequately concealed with the use of makeup. "Yes?" "You just don't understand." Syneda allowed her eyes to close for a moment. Then pushing her chair back she rose and sat on the edge of her desk facing the woman. "You're right, Mrs. Armstrong, I don't understand," she replied quietly. "I don't understand several things. First, how can a man who claims he loves a woman physically hurt her the way your husband has repeatedly hurt you? Second, how can a woman who cares anything about herself let him do it and get away with it?" Mary Armstrong blew her nose in a well-used napkin. "But he's my husband," the woman implored, pleading understanding. Syneda didn't give her any. "He's also your abuser. Look, Mrs. Armstrong, you've only been in the marriage for three years and he's doing this to you now. What do you think he'll be doing to you three more years from now?" "He'll change." "That's what you said a few months ago." Syneda gave a disgusted shake of her head. "It's time for you to make changes. Don't live under a false conception you're worth less than you really are. Don't ever believe you deserve to be beaten. No one deserves that. And please stop thinking you're nothing without him." There was a moment of silence in the room. Then the woman spoke. Her voice quavered with indecisiveness. "What do you suggest I do?" "As your attorney I suggest the first thing you should do is get some counseling. And I highly recommend that you bring charges against your husband." "Will he be arrested?" "That's a good possibility." The woman's face paled. "What will happen to his practice? He's an outstanding member of the community." Syneda let out a huff of breath that was more disgust than anger. "He's also an abuser. As far as his medical practice is concerned, if I were you I'd let him worry about that." "He loves me, and he's sorry that he's hurt me. I can't let him lose everything. I can't do that to him." Syneda stood. "Then there's nothing I can do. We'll be more than happy to help you, Mrs. Armstrong, when you're ready to first help yourself. Good day." Syneda continued to gaze at the closed door after Mrs. Armstrong had left. She let out a deep sigh of frustration. She was not having a good day. To be more specific, it had not been a good week. It had started with the case she'd lost on Monday, and the week had gone downhill from there. She rubbed her forehead, trying to relieve the throbbing at her temples. Even after five years she often wondered about her decision to practice family law. But then, she silently admitted, the profession she had chosen was important to her because she'd always managed to feel she had somehow made a difference in someone's life; whether it was getting them out of a hellish marriage, taking on their fight for custody rights, or in a case like Mary Armstrong's, helping them to realize options in life other than one filled with physical abuse. A quick knock sounded at the door. "Come in." The door opened and her secretary stuck her head inside. "I'm leaving for lunch now. Do you have anything you want ...

<h3>Product Description</h3><p>He knew better than to lust after the hired help. But Ramsey Westmoreland's new cook was just so delectable...it was enough to make the Denver rancher rethink his rules. When temptation got the best of him, he discovered Chloe Burton was just as hot in the bedroom as she was in the kitchen. </p><p>Though their affair was growing steamier by the minute, Ramsey couldn't help but question Chloe's true motives. And when he discovered her ultimate betrayal, he was set to satisfy himself with cold showers. Until he realized his fatal mistake: never underestimate the power of the human heart, <em>especially</em> a Westmoreland's. </p>

<h3>Product Description</h3><p>Casino owner Ian Westmoreland thought he had seen the last of Brooke Chamberlain, until she checked into his resort claiming to need a little R &amp; R. Brooke had betrayed him years before, and Ian was willing to bet there was more to her visit than she would admit. No woman had even come close to igniting the heat and passion inside him as Brooke once had. And if Ian was going to discover what Brooke was hiding, what better way than through seduction? </p><p>But in this game of bedroom cat and mouse, the stakes were very high. Would Ian's ultimate gamble pay off?</p>

### Product Description When a man finds a beautiful woman asleep in his bed... ...he has only one choice. To seduce her with a night of lovemaking she'll never forget. Trouble is, Donovan Steele's sultry new housekeeper is just as determined *not* to become the legendary playboy's latest conquest. Trading the Ivy League for down South, Natalie Ford is helping out with her ailing aunt's housecleaning service. But she finds that this powerful, potent man of Steele ignites a different kind of chemistry—one that defies every law of attraction the science professor ever learned. Natalie knows she has to come clean to Donovan about who she really is...especially when he starts believing she's out to sabotage his family business. Will she lose her chance to love the real man behind the seductive legend? ### Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Donovan Steele opened the door to his home and walked inside with a huge smile on his face. Over the weekend in New Hampshire, his best friend from childhood, Bronson Scott, one of the most popular drivers for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series, had placed in the top five. Donovan was proud of Bronson's success because Donovan, of all people, knew how hard his friend had worked to achieve it. Bronson was not only a skilled driver but was also a racer for the team he owned, Scott Motorsports. Donovan's chest also swelled with pride at the fact that his family-owned business, the Steele Corporation, was a major sponsor of Scott Motorsports. That provided plenty of advertising for SC and offered Bronson the financial support he needed to pursue his lifelong dream. Another reason for Donovan's smile was that at the race he'd been among friends and had managed to unwind and not think about how busy the coming months would be for him back at the office. A new product under development at SC, the first in several years, had everyone excited; especially Donovan since he headed the Product Administration Division. But Gleeve-Ware, as it was called, had to be completed in time for the annual Product Trade Show being held in Toronto this November. Instead of returning to Charlotte yesterday like he'd planned, he and a good friend from college, Uriel Lassiter, as well as two of his cousins from Phoenix— Galen and Tyson Steele—decided to stay an additional day to celebrate with Bronson and Myles Joseph, another good friend and a Scott Motorsports driver. And then there had been Joanne Summerville, a racetrack groupie who'd come on to him after finding out about his close relationship to Bronson and the other drivers. Even now he could still picture her standing under the July sun in those skintight jeans and that sky-blue T-shirt that had stretched snugly across a pair of well-endowed breasts. Joanne had been a looker, all right, and he regretted not taking her up on what she'd been offering. He hadn't the time to squeeze in a short fling, no matter how tempting, and he could still see the sexy pout on her lips and the disappointment in her eyes when he'd turned her down. His only saving grace was that he figured he'd run into her again at a future race. Donovan dropped his travel bag on the floor by the sofa instead of taking it upstairs to his bedroom. Due to an early flight out this morning, he'd missed breakfast and was hungry. He walked toward the kitchen, deciding that in desperate times even a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich sounded pretty good. The moment Donovan walked into his kitchen he could tell his housekeeper had been there. Everything gleamed, from the stainless-steel appliances to the ceramic-tile floor. He appreciated the way she kept his house clean. He was a stickler when it came to neatness, but he also liked having a good time and had no desire to spend his weekends doing chores. He was too busy spending his time doing women. It came as no surprise to those who knew him that he enjoyed and appreciated female company. There was no crime in that and at thirty-three, he enjoyed being single. He spent his time doing things he liked, which included a lot of traveling for pleasure, and refused to be tied down to a woman who'd have a hissy fit if he left her behind or one who felt entitled to accompany him. He'd learned the hard way that women tended to get outright possessive. Alyson Greer had been such a creature, and even now he got cold chills remembering how she had resorted to stalking him. From that point on, he'd made a conscious effort to make sure any woman he became involved with knew the score. There were simply too many beautiful ladies out there to get tied down to just one. His three older brothers were wearing wedding bands and that was all well and good—for them. He was happy they had found wonderful women to fall in love with and marry. But he was not the marrying kind. He wasn't even the serious relationship kind. Short-term affairs suited him just fine. Besides women, his favorite pastime was auto racing. Not that he would ever get behind the wheel of a race car but he totally enjoyed being a spectator. He couldn't describe the rush of adrenaline that flowed through his body while watching a race. Of course, sharing an orgasm with a woman was still number one in his book, but being at a race was a close second. He reached to open his pantry when he noticed a pair of women's sandals on the floor by the sliding glass door to his screened patio. Where had they come from and whom did they belong to? Had the cleaning lady left her shoes? Was she still there? He picked up the sandals to study their design. Sleek and snazzy. He'd only seen his housekeeper once or twice, and although she wasn't a bad-looking older woman, he couldn't imagine her wearing a pair of stylish and trendy shoes. But then he might be wrong. He couldn't judge every fifty-something-year-old woman by his mother and his aunt's taste in fashion. He cocked his right brow, his curiosity piqued, and for the moment his hunger was placed on the back burner. He went back into his living room and then the dining room and glanced around, noticing that the rooms were neat as a pin, tidy as could be and well-dusted. That was enough evidence to indicate his housekeeper had been here. On the main level, he also had a guest bedroom and a spacious bath, with the master suite and his office and another bathroom upstairs. If and when he felt inclined to invite a woman to stay for the night, the downstairs guest room was where they would sleep. He considered it his entertainment room. At one time he'd installed mirrors in the ceiling over the bed until his nephew Marcus—who would come spend the night on occasion—got old enough to question why they were there. The master bedroom was off-limits. He considered it his personal domain. No woman could lay claim to ever sleeping in what he considered his *real* bed. A number of them had tried, considered it a challenge, their ultimate goal. But so far none had ever made it up those stairs. After checking the other rooms, he made his way upstairs. It didn't take him long to check the bathroom and his office before heading down the hall that led to his master suite. His bedroom door was closed, which wasn't unusual, but what *was* unusual were the sensations he began feeling in the pit of his stomach, similar to the ones he felt when he was standing on the sidelines waiting for the race to begin. He opened the door, and his eyes quickly circulated the room, stopping first on the vacuum cleaner that was still plugged into the wall and then on the feather duster that was sitting on his dresser. He stepped into the room and held his breath when he saw a woman asleep in his bed. *What the hell?* Quickly, he crossed the floor to his bed and stared down at the sleeping woman. She was definitely not his regular cleaning lady. This woman looked to be in her early twenties and was absolutely, undeniably beautiful. She was lying on her side but her face was angled in a way that showed an ample portion of it. What he saw flooded his gut with something he'd never felt before, a sensual attraction so hard, gripping and intense that he had to struggle to get air past his lungs. Her skin, a beautiful chocolate-brown, looked soft, satiny and smooth. Her long eyelashes fanned her eyes, and in sleep she looked totally at peace. Her hair, a dark brown shade, flowed to her shoulders with bouncy-looking curls at the end. He had encountered beautiful women countless times but never before did one have such a gripping effect on his libido. And that very thought downright unnerved him. Pulling in a deep breath, he inhaled, then took his time releasing it after deciding it was time to wake her. Although his first instinct was to remove his clothes and get into the bed with her. Instead of feeling his privacy violated by the woman in his bed, he was feeling something else altogether. Lust. Bone-chilling, gut-wrenching lust to a degree he'd never experienced before. He tried tamping down the sensations by thinking that he definitely had a number of questions for her... but first he had to get her out of his bed. With that thought in mind, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder, trying to ignore the way his fingers trembled at the contact. He then watched as she slowly stretched her body before cuddling into another position without opening her eyes. Tempted to see the rest of her, he slowly lifted the covers... His sex immediately got hard, pressed tight against the fly of his jeans as his gaze lit on her lush, shapely body. His eyes raked over her khaki shorts and cotton top, taking in her long, toned legs, small waist, curvy thighs and flat tummy. And then there was her scent. It assailed his senses the moment he lifted the covers, a totally feminine aroma that clutched him in blatant desire. Thinking he'd better do something before he totally lost it, he dropped the covers back in place and gently shook her awake. His fingers trembled for a second time when they came in contact with her shoulder. He stared down at her face as her eyes fluttered open, blinked a few times, widened and then stared back. The color of flowing honey, her eyes were a perfect match for her complexion. The woman was even more beautiful with her eyes wide open looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He watched as she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something but then changed her mind. Instead she moistened her top lip with the flick of her tongue before gnawing nervously on the bottom lip. He felt an immediate tightening in his stomach. An aura of sexual magnetism surrounded them, held them within its grip. When he couldn't handle the sensations any longer, or the torture of imagining all the things he would love doing to her tongue and lips, he spoke up. "I believe you're sleeping in *my* bed, Goldilocks." Though her mind was working just fine, Natalie Ford was speechless and incapable of movement. When she'd opened her eyes, the last thing she expect...

### Product Description Quade Westmoreland's one-night love affair with Cheyenne had branded him body and soul, but he'd never even learned her last name. Almost a year later, driven by memories and one incriminating photo, the sexy operative had finally tracked her down—and discovered three little babies bearing his features. Learning he was a father made Quade even more determined: he would claim Cheyenne Steele in every way. Shockingly, the irresistible beauty seemed intent on resisting him. But the Westmoreland destiny was at stake, and Quade would fight for what was his.... ### Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. "Sir, the plane is about ready to take off. Please shut down your laptop and fasten your seat belt." Quade Westmoreland followed the flight attendant's instructions while thinking just how many times he'd heard such a request while flying aboard a commercial aircraft. Over the past eight years he had grown accustomed to the luxury of Air Force One where using a laptop during takeoff was not only welcomed but necessary. He glanced around. At least he was in first class, which wasn't a bad deal, and no one was sitting in the seat beside him, which made things even better. He didn't like the feel of being crowded or cramped. He liked having his space. That was the reason he'd enjoyed his job with the PSF, Presidential Security Forces, dual branches of the Secret Service and CIA. But if the truth be known—and there were only a few key individuals who actually knew the truth— his particular position entailed a lot more than protecting the president. After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, the PSF was created and he'd become a part of the elite team. His job was to keep tabs on the president's travels abroad and make sure everything associated with the trips, especially the security, was dealt with prior to the president's visit. It was his responsibility to protect the commander and chief from behind the scenes at all cost. That was the reason he had been in Sharm al-Sheikh, Egypt, the night he had met Cheyenne Steele. *Cheyenne Steele.* Just thinking about her brought an automatic tightening in his chest, as well as a stirring in another part of his body. The woman had gotten that sort of response from him from the first time he had encountered her that night walking on the beach. He had actually felt her presence before seeing her. And when he had gazed into her face, a deep physical attraction had unleashed fierce desire in him, a degree to which he had never felt toward any other woman in all his thirty-six years. It had been hot. Unex-plainable. And luckily for him, the attraction had been mutual. It didn't take long to discover that she was just as physically attracted to him as he was to her, and after a few brief moments of small talk, she accepted his offer to share a drink... in his hotel room. Although he had known she would be safe with him, he had initially questioned her decision until they'd gotten up to his room. Before going inside with him she had made a smart move by using her cell phone to contact the female friend she was traveling with to let her know where she would be; specifically which room and at which hotel on the beach. Cheyenne was the only part of her name she had exchanged with him that night and, considering how they'd met and the activities that had followed afterward, he hadn't been sure if Cheyenne had even been her real name. She had been pretty secretive, but then so had he. And like her, he had only shared his first name. He had constantly thought about her since that night and then a few days ago, while visiting his relatives in Montana, he had seen her face on the cover of a magazine. And it was pretty damn obvious that she was pregnant. In fact, she looked ready to deliver at any moment. Since the magazine had been October's issue and it was now the first of December, a million questions had been going through his mind. The first of which was whether or not he was the man responsible for her condition. They had used protection that night, but he would be the first to admit his passion for her, his desire to mate with her, had been uncontrollable. And somewhere in the back of his mind he seemed to recall at least one of the times in which there had not been a barrier. Whether it was true or just a figment of his imagination, he wasn't certain. Even if he had used a condom each time they had made love, condoms weren't without flaws, and when you made love as many times as they had, anything was possible. Even an unplanned pregnancy. She was the only one who could put his mind to rest by telling him whether or not the child—which should have been born by now—was his. If it wasn't, she must have slept with someone else around the same time she had slept with him. That was something he didn't want to think about. And if the child was his, he would do the right thing—the only thing a Westmoreland could do if they were foolish enough to get caught in such a situation. He would ask her to marry him to give their child his name. After a reasonable amount of time they could file for a divorce and part ways. He could tolerate a short-term wife if he had to. He had recently retired and was about to embark on another career. He had joined a partnership with a few of his cousins to open a chain of security offices around the country. He refused to be reminded that a marriage of convenience was how things had started out between his brother Durango and his wife, Savannah, and that they were now a happily married couple. Quade was glad things worked out the way they had for them; however, the situation with him and Cheyenne was different. Durango had fallen hard for Savannah from the first time he had seen her at their cousin Chase's wedding. But it had been lust and only lust that had driven his desire for Cheyenne that night. If it had been more than that, he would have taken the time to get to know her. He'd only had one goal in mind after meeting Cheyenne and that was finding a way to get her into his bed. One of the downsides of his former job was the long periods he'd had to put his social life on hold. It had been during one of those times, when his testosterone had been totally out of whack, that he met Cheyenne. He'd gone a long time without a woman and Cheyenne had been a prime target for a one-night stand. But he hadn't meant to get her pregnant if that's what he'd actually done. So here he was on his way to Charlotte, North Carolina, to find out if he was the father of her baby. He had contacted the ad agency and discovered not only that Cheyenne was her real name, but that she was also a model, which was the reason she had been on the cover of that magazine. He shouldn't have been surprised to learn of her profession since she had to have been the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. On the cover of that magazine with her pregnancy proudly displayed for the camera, she had still looked radiant and breathtakingly beautiful. Quade felt the plane tilt upward as it took off. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, deciding now was a perfect time to relive those long and passionate hours he had spent in bed with Cheyenne nearly ten months ago. * * * *Quade felt hot, edgy and he couldn't sleep.* *Muttering a curse, he eased out of bed and looked around the hotel room.* *The president was to arrive in two days and Quade and his men had checked out everything, especially the route the motorcade would be taking. There had been rumblings of a planned protest, but a spokesman for the Egyptian government had contacted him earlier to say the matter had been taken care of.* *He wondered if the bar downstairs was still open. He could definitely use a drink to take the edge off. For some reason this place and sleeping alone in this bed was reminding him just how long it had been since he'd had any sort of intimate physical contact with a woman. Too long.* *Instead of getting a drink, Quade decided to take a walk on the beach. He eased into a pair of jeans and pulled a T-shirt over his head. After sliding his feet into a pair of sandals he checked the clock on the nightstand. It was almost one in the morning.* *As he left his room, closing the door shut behind him, he thought about the phone conversation he'd had with his mother earlier. She had surprised the hell out of him by saying his cousin Clint had gotten married.* *He had just seen his cousin a few months before at his brother Spencer's wedding. They had talked. Clint had been excited. He had just retired as a Texas Ranger to become a partner with Durango and a childhood friend, McKinnon Quinn, in their horse-breeding business. Not once had Clint mentioned anything about a woman. And now he was married? There had to be more to it than the romantic tale his mother had weaved.* *Within no time at all Quade had caught the designated elevator, the one that would take him six levels down to a patio that led to the beach. Most of the hotel was empty. The majority of the rooms were already reserved for the president's visit. The first lady would be present on this trip, along with a number of other dignitaries. The visit would last three days and Quade would be working nonstop behind the scenes the entire time.* *He inhaled deeply as the scent of the ocean filled his nostrils, and after taking a few steps his sandals hit the soft sand, making him feel as if he was walking on marshmallows. Sharm al-Sheikh was a beautiful place, a developed tourist resort on the Sinai Peninsula that catered to the rich and famous. Even in the moonlit night, he could make out the large five-star hotels that dotted the shoreline.* *A number of his men had made plans to hang around after the president's visit to relax* *and unwind. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be one of them. He had promised his mother that he would be returning to the States in time to make an appearance at the christening of his cousin Thorn's son.* *Quade had to admit that he always looked forward to returning home to Atlanta whenever he could. TheWestmorelands were a large group and getting even larger with all the recent marriages and births. And then there was the possibility that they might find even more West-morelands if the genealogy search his father was conducting proved out. It seemed that their great-grandfather had a twin everyone assumed had died while in his early twenties. It appeared the black sheep Raphel Westmoreland, who had run off with a still-married preacher's wife at the age of 22, was still alive. Both Quade's father and his father's twin brother, James, were eager to find any descendants of their long, lost wife-stealing, great-grand uncle Raphel.* <...

<h3>Product Description</h3><p>"I'M HAVING YOUR BABY."</p><p>Savannah Claiborne's simple statement set off an avalanche in Montana ranger Durango Westmoreland's carefully ordered life. Suddenly, an unforgettable night of passion with the hazel-eyed beauty had turned into a lifetime of obligation for the confirmed bachelor.</p><p>But Westmoreland men always honored their responsibilities, and leaving Savannah to raise his baby on her own was not an option. So he proposed and she accepted...with one condition: Theirs would be an in-name-only marriage.</p><p>Durango agreed. For now.</p>

<h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3><p>With this taut, over-the-top romantic thriller, Jackson revisits her popular Madaris Family and Friends series (_Surrender_, etc.). For five years, ex-Marine turned CIA agent Sir Drake Warren has been haunted by recollections of his former fiancee, fellow Marine Sandy Carroll, who was killed in an explosion during a mission in Haiti. The only thing that has kept Drake going is his desire to annihilate Solomon Cross, the psychopathic drug lord who orchestrated Sandy's death. When Drake is paired with beautiful CIA agent Tori Green on an assignment to rescue the President's niece from kidnappers, he finally begins to heal. Although he notices eerie similarities between his new love interest and Sandy, he never suspects that the two women are one and the same. This plot twist is more than a little far-fetched, but Jackson smoothly alternates between several points of view and throws in a number of plot twists. Although readers new to this series may be daunted by the complexity of the family trees detailed in the first few pages, Jackson's knack for creating characters with emotional depth and distinct voices helps readers untangle the relationships in this tension-packed read.<br />Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. </p><h3>From Booklist</h3><p>CIA agent Warren Drake is the epitome of a military man in physical stature and personality. After he loses the love of his life, Sandy Carroll, during a military mission in Haiti, he spends the next five years alone, bitter and eager to avenge her death. His senses are awakened when he is ordered to work with a new partner, Victoria Green. Her physical beauty and military skills are enticing, and he falls for the first time since Sandy. Only two people know that Sandy didn't die, and after her extensive surgeries to change her looks and identity, Sandy is now CIA agent Victoria Green. She senses that Drake is attracted to her yet, she's unable to tell him she's Sandy. After an enemy from their past forces them to protect themselves, they team up to put an end to his madness. The suspense and danger of their mission is heightened by their love for and protectiveness of one another. Jackson has written another compelling drama about the Madaris family and their friends. <em>Lillian Lewis</em><br /><em>Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved</em></p>