"I could tutor you, but I don't think you'd be able to concentrate." • • • When Cassandra Berry gets offered a shitload of money and a place at any college of her choice, just to con a man and getting pregnant with a said man, the answer seems pretty straight forward; Yes. - But Harry Xavier Devon is no mere fool. With two millennium prizes on his back and renowned around the world as the next Newton within mathematics, Harry easily sees through his brother's ploy to have a woman seduce him and get her pregnant when he himself can't have children. His brother in desperate need of an heir for his business empire, but Harry has no intentions of playing the scapegoat. Flipping the play against his brother, he pays Cassandra double the money to continue lying to his brother that they *are* having sex. He thinks he's gotten his revenge when it suddenly appears he's gotten more than he bargained for. Cassandra is no shy woman, or as previously thought, just a money-grabbing whore. Stuck in the same house together for a whole summer could prove to teach the mathematician that some things can *never* be calculated... - Especially when dealing with a (horny) woman.

"Never underestimate the power of a decent vocabulary." • • • Imagine if you could hear everything your neighbor did on the other side of the wall. Cook - clean - masturbate? Detective Russell Crane quickly deducts that the wall in his new apartment is surprisingly thin. And that his female neighbor has a fondness of vibrators. How much would you listen to? And more importantly; How would you react if you heard your neighbor moan your name after having just met her once?

He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.