From the USA Today and Internationally bestselling author of The Club Series, Lauren Rowe, comes a sexy standaloneromantic comedy: Ball Peen Hammer.
Keane Morgan wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts, and I was pissed as hell about it. I didn’t want to drive from Seattle to L.A. with the guy any more than he wanted to drive with me, but I had no frickin’ choice in the matter--at least, not if I wanted to use his brother Dax’s coveted parking spot at UCLA.
Okay, so it turned out Keane was objectively gorgeous, and, fine, pretty funny, too. But did he have to be so damned in love with himself? I mean, jeez, the cocky way he flashed those dimples was just so orchestrated. And, honestly, what kind of guy uses the phrase “baby doll” with a straight face? Oh, that’s right: the kind of guy who’s a male stripper.
Yup, the cocky jerk turned out to be Seattle’s answer to Magic Mike, a stripper known as “Ball Peen Hammer”--which meant Keane Morgan was emphatically not the kind of guy I’d ever fall for.
Not. At. All.
No freakin’ way.
Well, until Keane convinced me to fall for him, that is.
Which I did.
Ball Peen Hammer is a full-length, standalone sexy romantic comedy about Keane Morgan (one of four Morgan brothers introduced in The Club Series) and Maddy Milliken (the little sister of Hannah Banana Montana Milliken).
Although Keane and Maddy’s love story is set in the universe of The Club Series, it is a standalone novel with no cliffhanger and no prior reading required. Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
I hate him. Jude Titan is everything that’s wrong with the male sex: cocky, domineering and loaded with swagger. Oh, and did I mention he’s a Republican? Yeah, the guy’s so conservative he leans to the right when walking. And lucky me, I’m running against him for Senate. But I’ve got plenty of fight in me. A golden boy war hero opponent with a smile that leaves melted panties in its wake? Bring. It. On.
Damn, she’s sexy. Reagan Preston intrigues me from the moment I lay eyes on her. And speaking of laying…I want between those thighs. But I want to make her burn for me first. Every debate and stolen moment is foreplay for us. She claims she hates me, but her body tells a different story. I plan to win this election, but I also want to win the sharp, fiery Democrat who captures my attention like no woman ever has. Politics is filthy, just like all the things I want to do to Reagan Preston.
From the first moment I saw Janny Moore's sparkling eyes and luminous smile, I've been obsessed with the idea of getting to know her...
She's everything I need in my life, now I just have to convince her.
She's never set eyes on me, she has no idea I exist...
but she will.
Librarian Note: This book is Part 1 of a series and ends with a cliffhanger. The next book is 'Quiver'
“At 18 I had pennies, but money didn’t make me bold. At 19 I had dollars, but it didn’t dull the pain of being sold. At 20 I had hundreds, but then I met him and was found. At 21 I had thousands, but all I wanted was to be bound.”
“At 23 I had dollars, but life changed and made me rich. At 25 I had hundreds, but it wasn’t enough to stop my killing itch. At 27 I had thousands, but my reputation didn’t set me free. At 29 I had millions, but I met her and could finally see.”
Tasmin was killed on her 18th birthday. She had everything planned out. A psychology degree, a mother who pushed her to greatness, and a future anyone would die for. But then her murderer saved her life, only to sell her into a totally different existence.
Elder went from penniless to stinking rich with one twist of fate. His lifetime of crime and shadows of thievery are behind him but no matter the power he now wields, it’s not enough. He has an agenda to fulfill and he won’t stop until it’s complete.
But then they meet.
A beaten slave and a richly dressed thief. Money is what guided their separate fates. Money is what brought them together. And money is ultimately what destroys them.
She was poor.
He was rich.
Together…they were bankrupt.
Life doesn’t always start with once upon a time.
Love doesn’t always end with happily ever after.
After spending five years with the love of my life, I did nothing to stop her from walking away. She had her reasons to leave. I had my reasons to stay. But a year later, the realization of loss hits me, and I’ll stop at nothing to fix it. I leave everything behind to drive across the country to win her back, and I refuse to accept anything other than fulfilling old promises.
But the only certainty in life is: nothing is as expected.
The most valuable lessons don’t often revolve around a fairytale ending—frequently, they come from hurt and healing. They come from the kind of personal growth love offers. The mending of your heart, your soul, and your life. And every once in a while, you find the greatest gifts in the packages you never expected to open.
Owen Daniels lives his life eight seconds at a time. The thrill of anticipation that comes with sitting on twelve hundred pounds of untamed power is unparalleled. The adrenaline rush that floods his system when the chute opens is one of life’s most unique and natural highs.
Ride eight seconds bareback on a bucking bronco—that’s his life.
When Owen’s stock horse, Remington’s Lady, is injured midway through the rodeo circuit, he trailers her back home to Willow Bay, Alberta, to remain in the care of the local vet, Ray Brookes.
Months later, with a truck bed full of buckles, Owen comes home to collect his Lady from the man he trusted to help her recover. Only Ray happens to be short for Rayne, and Rayne happens to be a woman.
And this woman wants nothing to do with a cowboy fresh off the circuit. As far as she’s concerned, he can take his buckles, boots, and spurs right back on out of her life.
Will Rayne keep them from holding on to their eight-second ride? Or will love buck out of the chute in time for a perfect score?
But those two letters changed everything.
It was impossible to predict the impact I would have on the life of the only woman I'd ever truly loved. No way to know that I would result in her ruin.
I’d suffer for eternity with the knowledge that it was me who brought devastation to her doorstep.
Though I deserved the anguish I felt, to see her suffer was unacceptable.
I would fix this.
Somehow I would prove to her that I wasn't the monster she thought I was.
Even if it meant becoming a monster in order to make that happen.
I hate Max Davis.
I hate his cocky, overconfident smirk and the way every woman in the office drools over him. I hate the irresistible way he fills out his suit and his manwhore ways. I hate his tempting touch and the way he makes me want to break all the rules. His Clark Kent Glasses, his cheesy sense of humor, his animalistic desire to have me—on my desk, against the filing cabinet, spread out across the conference table.
I hate that he's my number one competition and if we're caught, I lose it all. And most of all, I hate that he's off-limits and I just can't stay away.
Arranged marriage? Check.
Cocky new husband? Check.
It's a marriage of convenience—one I’m determined to keep strictly professional. I can't be stupid enough to fall for this sexy playboy's charm or advances. I have to be strong, even if he is my husband.
Except he has a huge cock with an even bigger ego, and his main goal in life seems to be getting me to stroke both. The arrogant bastard is like sweet, sugary candy for my libido. I know he’s bad for me.
But I want to devour every wicked inch of him.
With his sexual prowess and experience, I know he’ll be explosive in the bedroom. And since we’re stuck together for the foreseeable future—keeping up this marriage charade long enough to turn the company profitable again—I deserve something to look forward to at the end of a long workday, right?
What could one little taste hurt?
I used to imagine that life would be easier, more enjoyable, if I were tall, blond, and supermodel thin. But real life—like the average, every day woman—is full of curves and imperfections, and many opportunities to learn that it’s not the number on the scale that measures the capacity of your heart.
After years of struggling with poor self esteem and too many crash diets to count, I finally got wise—and hired a trainer. With an enthusiastic push from my brother’s fiancé and more motivation than a Joel Osteen sermon, I, Madeline “Leni” Moore, am ready to ditch the oh-woe-is-me act.
That is, until I smack head-on into a tree and collide with him. Lane Sheffield is the guy you drool over from afar. One look at him the first day on the runner’s track, and my panties are up in flames. He’s out of my league. Slim, sleek, and athletic to my plump, dull, and unfit. Lane has no reason to like me, but to my utter shock . . . he does and this newfound attention from the opposite sex has me all sorts of baffled.
What starts out as a healthy journey to lose some of the extra me, turns into a quest to find my true self. Will the need to fit in and finally have someone to call my own lead me to my weight loss goal or my happiness goal? I've focused so long on being skinny, what will it take for me to learn the ultimate lesson—that beauty is only skin deep?