They call them the Beast Brothers.

On the field, they’re brutes. Off the field, they’re huge and hard, and have a reputation for [email protected] like animals.

I vowed to never get involved with another football player, but when my car is hit and the drivers in the other vehicle happen to be the sexiest twin beasts in the whole NFL, what's a girl to do?

Resistance is futile when you find yourself in the back of a taxi with two sets of hungry eyes that want to look under your clothes, and four hands that want to touch you in all the best places.

I know it's stupid to break my resolution within hours. It gets worse, though.

While I was living out of state with my douchebag cheating ex, my dad went and got himself a fiancée. And if that isn't bad enough, my stepmom-to-be is the woman who spawned the Beasts.

My wildest sexual experience ever has been with my enormous soon-to-be stepbrothers, and it could ruin everyone's lives.

I know I shouldn't give in to them again, but if Beauty couldn't resist one gigantic beast in the fairytale, what hope do I have against two?

This is a standalone MFM ménage romance with a guaranteed happy ending. There are no M/M scenes – the Beast Brothers are all about pleasing their woman.

Read on for an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Megan

The best thing Jason ever did was cheat on me.

Not that I’m grateful to my skunk of an ex-fiancé at the moment. I’m crawling down the freeway in bumper-to-bumper traffic, heading into my hometown. There’s a big game this weekend and the Leopards are the team to beat in the NFL, so everybody and his brother has come to see them take on the Stallions.

Reaching my exit at last, I take the off-ramp to Central Avenue. It’s as crowded as the freeway, crammed with cars trying to get home or to a hotel before the dark clouds overhead unleash their fury. I inch along, wishing the traffic would vanish so I could gun the puny engine on my compact car and vent some of my emotions.

Every time the scene from this morning intrudes on my mind, anger and pain flare up anew. I’m sick of driving, sick of grieving, of wasting my tears on a man who doesn’t deserve them. If I hadn’t come home early and found Jason balls-deep in another woman, I’d still be planning our wedding.

I need a drink and a hot bath and some mindless entertainment.

I need to be numb.

My cell phone rings. I glance down and see that it’s Jason. It’s all I can do not to pick up the phone and hurl it straight through the windshield.

It’s only an instant that my eyes are off the road, but when I look up there’s a truck stopped right in front of me. With no time to brake, I wrench the steering wheel, jerking my car sideways into the next lane — just as a bright blue sports car whips into the same spot from the other side.

Its front bumper hits the passenger side of my car with a sickening crunch, bouncing my head off the window next to me, then snapping me back the other way. The impact spins my car around. I end up facing the wrong way, the oncoming traffic dividing frantically around me like water going past the prow of a ship.

I’m too stunned to move; for long moments, I just sit there staring. I’m finally numb, but not the way I wanted.

Maybe I messed up in another life, and today is some kind of karmic revenge. My lower lip trembles, and I bite down on it. Self-pity sucks, and no matter what, I will not start crying again.

A tap on my side window makes me jump. I turn my head to see a man peering in at me. Dark hair, dark eyes, shoulders as broad as a house. The kind of sexy that starts a slow burn between my legs, even in my current state. Why does he seem so familiar?

When I don’t respond, he opens my door. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry,” I say, straightening in my seat. “Was that your car?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about that.” I hear a snort behind him, but I can’t see who it is because the huge man in front of me is blocking my view.

Undoing my seat belt, I turn to get out of the car. The man takes my hand to help me up. Electric heat surges up my arm and through my body, flooding me with sensation. A detached corner of my mind notices my entirely inappropriate response, and wonders if it’s because I’m in shock.

He backs away to give me room. Now I can see the other man, standing by the flashy blue car with his arms folded. Same hair, same eyes, same massive build. Same sinfully-high sex appeal oozing from every gorgeous pore.

At first I wonder if I’m seeing double; then it hits me. No wonder they seem familiar! Brock and Cody Easton are twins, first-year draft picks, and star players for the Leopards. In the NFL world, they’re better known as the Beast Brothers.

As I stand up, the man by the car — is he Cody or Brock? — looks me over. There’s something other than concern in his gaze and he’s not even trying to be subtle about it. His eyes travel down my body and up again, taking in my curves, and his expression changes from annoyance to speculation.

My skin feels too tight all of a sudden, as if my nerve endings were trying to push through, leap across the space between us, and wrap themselves around him. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s only been a few hours since I packed my car and left my asshole of an ex, I was just in a car accident, and here I am salivating over two men I haven’t even properly met.

Granted, they are the hottest men I’ve ever laid eyes on. But still.

“Don’t worry about the car,” the one nearest me says again. “I’m Cody, by the way.” He’d let go of me when I stood up, and now he’s holding out his hand again to shake.

It’s an enormous hand — it engulfs mine, and I am not a petite woman. But I only have an instant to process that, because at the contact with his rough, warm skin, heat flows through me once more. This time, my nipples go hard.

I tell myself it’s the stress. That’s why I’m getting more turned on than I ever did from Jason’s touch, right here in the middle of the street, with honking cars all around us. I want to believe it, but I know it’s not true.

The other thing I know is that I need to stop feeling this way. Now. I pull my hand free and look at his brother. “So you must be Brock. My dad’s told me about you both.”

A slow smile quirks one side of his mouth. He’s devastatingly sexy, just like his twin — and he knows it. “Your dad’s a fan?”

“You could say that,” I tell him. “He’s your coach.”

Available on Amazon:

Read Zoe's story!

One man may be plenty ... but two is the perfect fantasy.

Ever since my best friend scored two gorgeous, brawny brothers who attend to her every need, I’ve been on the lookout for my own twin beasts.

Enter Alex and Lucas Wolf. Huge, identical specimens of male perfection. Easy on the eyes and even better in bed. Double the pleasure, double the ... aggravation!

Stubborn, domineering, and way too bossy. I don’t need that. I'm more than capable of running my own life so I decide to have my fun and move on ... except the twins don’t agree with my decision.

Especially when I’m suddenly in danger, and the Wolf brothers decide they’re the only ones who can keep me safe. I may survive the threat ... but with both of them guarding me day and night, can I withstand the temptation?

This is a super hot MFM ménage romance with a guaranteed happy ending. Though it’s the second book in a series, each story stands alone.

Read on for an excerpt:

Chapter 1 

Zoe

And I’m on the verge of an emergency — or should I say pee-mergency. When things are that dire, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

So I ignore the line of women, hold my head up, and march into the men’s room like I belong there. My luck holds — there’s nobody else in here. Darting into a stall, I lock it and find sweet relief.

Closing my eyes, I let out a long sigh. It’s a moment before I open them again, and when I do they widen in shock. Because just on the other side of my stall door are two pairs of feet in heavy work boots. Men’s feet, judging from their size, their footwear, and … um… their location, here in the men’s room.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am alarmed. Mine is not the only stall in the place and the men attached to the boots aren’t stepping up to the urinals. They seem to be waiting … for me.

Crap! Just my luck to get bathroom stalkers. What should I do? Ignore them and hope they leave?

That option disappears when the door rattles and a deep voice says, “Step out of the stall, miss.” Well. I probably shouldn’t judge the man too much by his voice, but he doesn’t sound like the creepy assailant type. More like a DJ for a sexy-love-songs radio show.

“Just a second,” I call, and finish taking care of business as quickly as possible. Just in case, I dig my tiny can of mace out of my purse and have it at the ready. The door opens inward, putting me at a disadvantage, so I sling my purse over my other shoulder, ensuring it won’t get in the way of my dominant hand and the can of mace. Grasping the bolt, I slide it back.

As soon as the door is free, it bursts open, so fast I have to jerk away from it before it smacks me in the face. Losing my balance, I start to go over backwards, almost falling into the toilet, but two strong hands grab my arms and yank me forward out of the stall.

The next moment, I’m bent over near a hand dryer, my cheek against the wall. “Hey!” I yell as I’m relieved of my mace and my purse. “Give those back!”

“Hush up,” says that same impossibly sexy voice. But right at the moment I’m not in the mood to appreciate how great it sounds.

“Hush up?” I repeat. “Did you just tell me to hush up?” My voice rises even more on the final words. “What the hell is going on?”

A man comes into the bathroom and stops dead at the sight of us. His eyes go from me, to Mr. Sexy Voice, then back again. “I gotta pee, man,” he says finally.

“Bathroom’s closed,” my captor snaps in a tone of absolute finality. “Find another one.”

The intruder backs away, hands up and out. “Okay, okay, sheesh.” Then he’s gone.

The man on the other side of me bends down. “Name,” he says in my ear.

“Go to hell.” I try to twist away, but he’s got a hand between my shoulder blades, holding me in this awkward position with ridiculous ease. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Unless you want to spend the evening answering questions at the police station, I suggest you lose the attitude.” His voice is slightly different than the other guy’s — but only slightly. How can two different men both sound good enough to eat?

“I was just trying to pee in peace and quiet,” I retort. I know I’m probably not being smart here, but who do they think they are? Since when is using a men’s room a federal offense?

“All right,” he says. “Have it your way. We’re going to frisk you for weapons.”

While he holds me down, the other man runs his hands over me. He starts at my hips, moves up under my arms, and then slowly and thoroughly slides his hands down past my hips again. There’s nothing overtly inappropriate about it — no touching where he shouldn’t be — so why am I chewing my lip, trying not to get turned on? And is it my imagination that his hands linger just a fraction too long on my inner thighs, or is that wishful thinking?

Whatever the truth is, by the time he’s done I’m restless and fighting the urge to squirm. Not to mention that my panties might possibly be a little on the damp side. Okay, more than a little. I know it’s been a while since I’ve been touched, but what is wrong with me?

“Okay,” Sexy Voice 1 says at last, and the pressure of his hand is gone. Slowly, I stand and turn to face the men. And that’s when my ovaries catch fire.

Available on Amazon:

"The ride this story takes you on is incredibly sexy, incredibly hot and intense, and a lot of fun to read” - Amazon reviewer

Amber Paulson plays by the rules: work hard, get good grades, and stay out of trouble. She’s not looking for a boyfriend; her top priority is passing chemistry so she doesn’t lose her scholarship.

Aidan Holt doesn't care if people call him a manwhore. He's the lead singer for the hottest band in town, and if women fall all over themselves to sleep with him, who is he to say no? He doesn't do relationships, but he knows how to show his many willing fans a good time.

When Amber goes to the campus learning center for help, she's shocked to see that her chemistry tutor is the impossibly sexy guy she'd just met that weekend. The one who got her hot and bothered within ten minutes of meeting him -- right before he went onstage and seduced an adoring crowd with his voice.

A guy who takes home a different girl every night is the last person Amber wants to share her first time with. But the spark between them is hard to resist -- and Aidan isn't one to give up easily.

The last thing either of them expects to do is fall in love ...

The first time I met Billy Taylor, we came thisclose to having sex in the parking lot of a bar.

I was upset, okay? I'd just dumped my lying, cheating boyfriend. I had my perfect life with him all planned out, and then he ruined it when he put his hands on another woman.

Billy isn't like him, or any other man I've known ... but I can't let myself think about Billy. Or his amazing, sculpted, gorgeous Greek-god body. No. I can't. And I absolutely, positively mustn't fantasize about finishing what we started.

We could never work. Ever. I'm all about the city. He's country down to the bone.

And if that's not enough ... he's also my soon-to-be stepbrother.

So I can't think about the way he keeps teasing me, flirting with me, driving me crazy. Or remember the way his body felt against mine in that parking lot, all heat and hard muscle. And the times he's been nice when I really needed it.

I have a plan for my life, dammit. And Billy Taylor is not part of it.

If I keep telling myself that, maybe I'll even believe it.

Kayla:

Axel Beckers. Hotshot. Heartbreaker. My first crush. I’ve never truly gotten over him, and now he's back in my life.

Ten years ago, when I was fifteen, my mom was married to Axel's dad, professional race car driver and serial cheater. It was no surprise when things ended badly for our parents, like World War III badly.

Now I’m working at a magazine, and I get an assignment to interview Axel, who’s followed in his dad's footsteps, professionally and personally. He's an up-and-coming Indycar driver who's also a regular feature on gossip sites. He's got a different woman on his arm any time he's not behind the wheel.

I hope seeing him again will break the hold he unknowingly has on me.

But things don't go as planned.

Axel:

I can’t believe my onetime stepsister is all grown up. When she stumbles and lands right in my arms, I also can’t help noticing just how good she feels.

They can call me a playboy, but what matters is winning races. On the track and off it, I get what I want, and what I want is Kayla.

She’s determined to resist me, but she doesn’t stand a chance. Kayla belongs in my bed … no matter what anyone says.