Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

17155439To set things right, she has to be very wrong…

Former constable Daniel Carlyle hasn’t the foggiest notion how to be a viscount. No one is more shocked than he when his father’s second cousin and his son die on the same day. When a prominent earl offers to guide Daniel through Society and the House of Lords, he’s grateful to have a champion. Things seem to be falling into place when he meets a lovely young woman he intends to make his viscountess. Until he catches her stealing from his mentor.

The moment Jocelyn Renwick glimpses her family’s stolen heirlooms in the possession of a wealthy earl, she demands their return. He dismissively insists they’ve been in his family for generations, and she privately vows to get them back at any cost. But the law-abiding Lord Carlyle foils her plans, and she reluctantly partners with him to solve the theft of her property. When they discover the earl is up to his ears in criminal acts, he threatens to link Daniel to his gang of thieves. Jocelyn must decide if justice for her family is worth risking a chance at love.

Why do you need to read this book? I think you need to read this book because of the awesome characters! I loved Daniel Carlyle! He is thrust into a role that he never expected to have, and adapted through force of will and a strong character. Jocelyn is great! She is principled and determined to right her family’s wrongs. I couldn’t put this book down. Excellent!


To Love a Thief is available on Amazon


(compliments of Darcy Burke’s website)

Daniel reached Aldridge’s office and went inside. What greeted him made him stop in his tracks. “Miss Renwick?”

She stopped, her hand on the desk drawer she’d just closed. She stood straight and smoothed her skirt. Dots of pink colored her cheeks. She would have looked alluring if she hadn’t also looked guilty. “Good evening, my lord. I do believe I’m in the wrong room.”

Wishing to conduct his interview in private—and he intended to conduct an interview as the constable in him roared to the surface—he closed the door behind him. “What are you looking for in Lord Aldridge’s office?”

“Nothing. As I said, I’m in the wrong place. I was looking for the retiring room.” She moved around the desk and made for the door.

Daniel stepped into her path. “You thought the retiring room might be contained in the desk drawer?”

The pink in her cheeks darkened and spread. “Of course not. If you’ll excuse me.” She made to move past him, but he placed his hand on her forearm.

“I will not. At least not until you tell me what you were doing. You can’t expect me to believe you were simply in the wrong room. You were looking for something. Tell me what it was.”

She moved away from him as if his touch burned her. Maybe it did. The feel of her skin beneath his palm was enough to heat him in the most inappropriate places.

“Please, my lord. I was mistaken. Just let me go.” Then she dashed for the exit.

Daniel went after her, but she’d already opened the door and was stepping into the corridor. He stopped short lest he tackle her over the threshold, but then she spun on her heel and charged right back into him, sending him stumbling backward. She gained her balance, turned, and shut the door firmly.

Daniel lurched forward and, without thinking, pinned her against the door. He laid his palms on either side of her shoulders against the wood. “What the devil is going on?”

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Someone is in the corridor.”

That’s why she’d come right back into the office. He didn’t move away from her. Instead, he enjoyed the heat of her body, the flush of her exertion, the shallow pant of her breath. She kept her eyes averted, but Daniel would get her to look at him soon enough.

“Unless you want me to open this door and let all and sundry see us together, you’ll tell me what the hell you were doing in Lord Aldridge’s office.”

Her eyes snapped to his, their hazel depths flashing. She said, “You wouldn’t,” but her tone was laced with doubt.

He watched the muscle in her throat work as her pulse sped beneath her flesh, and her chest heaved. “You don’t know me well enough to say for sure. Do you want to find out?”


Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

15810165One Sweet Ride…

Oh yeah. A single look at the leggy blonde in the stands and Tucker Jenkins is ready to buck all night long. It’s time to forget all about his cheating ex and his usual hands off policy.

One Hot Night…

Becca Hart is an East Coast professor. Not a buckle bunny. But no degree can prepare her for the moves of the sexy bull rider she hooks up with at her first rodeo … Or the shock of finding him at her first Oklahoma State University staff meeting.

One Happy Ending…

Tuck knows it’s all about holding on, no matter how wild the ride. Now he just has to convince Becca that a rough start out of the chute doesn’t mean they aren’t a smokin’ combination …

Why do you need to read this book? I like what the author did with these characters. This isn’t the story of a buckle bunny and a cowboy, it is the story of a strong intelligent woman who challenges a cowboy. Excellent read!


One Night with a Cowboy can be purchased at Amazon



(compliments of Cat Johnson’s site)

“I have a room with a king-sized bed available. Will that be all right?”

“Perfect.” Tucker shot her a smirk and she felt her cheeks heat.

How many more embarrassing questions could this desk clerk ask? There couldn’t possibly be any more. He’d pretty much covered everything he could to humiliate her.

Yes, only one night. Yes, the bigger the bed the better. Yes, we’ll be having lots of sex. Thank you for asking.

“Do you need help with your luggage?”

She nearly choked as the hotel employee managed to come up with one more thing she hadn’t even considered.

No, no luggage. Just sex.

“No, thanks. We’re good.” Cool as a cucumber, as he had been through the entire check-in, Tucker picked up the pen and signed the paper the clerk had pushed toward him.

“We’re all set then. Check out is eleven, and elevators are to your right.”

“Great. Thanks.” Tucker slid the signed form back and took the keycard from him. After slipping the small piece of plastic into his back pocket, he took her hand in his and turned toward the elevators.

At least that part of the night was over, but even though she couldn’t wait to get out of sight of the lobby and the front desk, Tucker moved at his usual pace. Something between an amble and a stroll. It would be very atmospheric in an old Western movie. Here and now, it made the New Yorker in her cringe as she fought the urge to sprint—or at least power walk—to their destination.

When they finally reached the elevators and were out of earshot of the clerk, she turned to glance at Tucker. “I’m so embarrassed.”

He frowned down at her from beneath his ever-present cowboy hat. The bad-girl side of her—the one she hadn’t known existed until Emma forced her to go to the rodeo to look for cowboys in the first place—couldn’t help wondering if Tucker normally took his hat off to have sex or if he left it on. It was like a fist to the stomach when she realized she’d know one way or the other very soon. Wow.

“Embarrassed about what?” he asked, knocking the image of him, naked except for his hat, out of her spinning brain.

“He must know why we’re here. What we’re doing.” Even though there was no one nearby, Becca kept her voice as low as humanly possible.

“You mean that we’re checking in to have sex?” He leaned toward her and hissed the last word in an exaggerated whisper tinged with a laugh. “Becca, why would he assume that?”

“Because it’s practically the middle of the night.” She opened her eyes wide. Jeez. It was so obvious.

“So? We could just as easily be two weary travelers looking for a place to rest on a long journey.” The smirk on Tucker’s face told Becca he was enjoying this a little too much. She, on the other hand, was not.

She frowned. “We don’t look like travelers. We don’t even have any luggage.”

“You’re so cute being embarrassed. Just because we don’t have luggage.” He smiled and ran one hand up her arm. “If you want, I can go get my gear bag from the truck and carry it past the front desk so he thinks it’s our overnight bag.”

“No.” She rolled her eyes at his suggestion. “That won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is Oklahoma, the rodeo state. He’ll probably know it’s full of bull stuff and think we’re doing kinky things upstairs with it or something.” She felt the scowl settle on her face at the thought. Best to leave it alone and cut their losses.

“First of all, Oklahoma is the Sooner State, not the rodeo state. But besides that, I’m trying to imagine what kind of kinky things we could possibly do with the bull stuff in my gear bag.” Tucker raised a brow. “I suppose we could get creative with the tape I use to wrap my wrist. There is the cowbell hanging on my bull rope… Although unless you’re into some really weird kind of role playing, that won’t be of much use.”

He grinned as her cheeks grow hotter.



Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

13050118Lady Eleanor Langston has a problem: her husband Henry, prime-minister-in-the-making, is too caught up in his work to notice her. Despite her involvement in his various public appearances, she feels shut out of his life, especially with their one-year anniversary looming. When Henry hires a highly recommended French lady’s maid without consulting her, Eleanor’s anger can’t be contained—until she meets her. With Babette’s help, Eleanor arms herself with the one weapon that will make Henry notice her as a woman—her inner siren.

Why do you need to read this book? The maid – Babette – is an outstanding character – must be read!!


The French Maid is available from Amazon



Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel

DukestotheLeftTheir engagement was a fake.
Most women would not be pleased to be labeled a spinster. But Lady Poppy Smith-Barnes isn’t most women. In fact, Poppy has invented an imaginary fiancé, the Duke of Drummond, to deter unwanted suitors. A very useful fellow, this duke, until the real Drummond turns up and uses Poppy’s ploy to trap her in a betrothal.

Will their passion make it real?
A good spy flies below the radar. Which is why being named one of the Prince Regent’s “Impossible Bachelors” is so inconvenient for Nicholas Staunton. Every society female will be out to ensnare him. Nicholas needs a fiancée—and Poppy’s ruse is the answer. How could he have known she’d be a brazen, sensual siren with an irresistible taste for adventure? Now nothing less will do than to convince his fiery Poppy to revoke her spinster status…for good.


Why do you need to read this book? You need to read this book to find out more about Poppy! She is a great character that keeps you turning the pages to find out what she’ll do next!


Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right is available on Amazon


In a proper English drawing room on Clifford Street in London’s Mayfair district, Lady Poppy Smith-Barnes, daughter of the widowed Earl of Derby, threw down the newspaper and stood up on shaky legs. Finally, the secret passion she’d been carrying around with her for almost six years would have its day in the sun.

“He’s here,” she announced to Aunt Charlotte. “Sergei’s in England.”

She could hardly believe it. She’d resigned herself to being a Spinster–she was in good company, after all. But now…in a matter of a moment, everything had changed.

Her prince had arrived.

Aunt Charlotte, tiny in her voluminous, outmoded gown, stopped her knitting. “Are you sure?”

Poppy found the paper again and put it under her aunt’s nose. “He and his sister are touring with their uncle’s last portrait and unveiling it for the very first time here in London. They intend to enjoy the social whirl while they’re visiting, of course.”

“Oh, Poppy!” Aunt Charlotte’s eyes were a bright, mischievous blue above her spectacles, and her powdered white wig sat slightly askew on her head. “He’s the only man on earth who could coax you out of the Spinsters Club.”

“Indeed, he is.” She hurried to the front window and looked out, expecting something to be different. But the day appeared like any other day. She knew, however, that it wasn’t. It was special.

Sergei–the perfect boy, and now the perfect man–was in Town.

She spun around to her aunt. “Do you think he’ll remember me? It’s been six long years. I was fifteen. We had only a week. It seems a lifetime ago.”

“How could he forget you?”

She shrugged. “So much has happened to him. He’s been traveling, he was in the military–I kept up with him as best I could through the papers. I’m afraid…I’m afraid he’ll see me at a ball and walk right by me.”

Aunt Charlotte laughed. “No one walks right by you, dear. Not with that fiery hair of yours. Or that mischievous grin. You’re an impudent thing, you know. Just like me. He’ll notice you, all right.”

Poppy went to her and squeezed her hand. “But I’ve got to get through Eversly’s proposal first. I’m dreading it, Aunt, more than any other offer I’ve ever had. He’s such an amiable sort.”

Aunt Charlotte calmly resumed her knitting. “Yes, he is. But you must stay true to yourself. He’ll survive the turn-down, and you will, too. It’s not as if you haven’t had a great deal of practice.”

Eversly was due to arrive within the hour, and his would be the twelfth marriage proposal Poppy had turned down in the three years she’d been out. Two of those offers had rather predictably taken place during the fireworks at Vauxhall. Another two had transpired at Rotten Row in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, both times while she’d sat astride docile mares (Papa wouldn’t let her take out the prime-goers). One proposal had taken place in front of a portrait of a spouting whale at the British Museum at eleven in the morning and two more at the conclusion of routs that had dragged on until dawn. One had transpired in the buffet line at a Venetian breakfast after she’d overfilled her plate with wedges of lemon tart to make up for the dull company, two had occurred in her drawing room over cold cups of tea–tepid because her suitors had posed on so long about themselves–and one had taken place, inexplicably, at a haberdashery, where she’d gone to buy buttons for Papa’s favorite hunting coat.

Two barons, a baronet, three viscounts, four earls (one of them only nine-years-old at the time), and one marquess had proposed to her. Two had had large ears. Five had had small eyes. Three had smelled of brandy, and one had lost his breeches in a fountain. One had been missing his front teeth (and it hadn’t been the boy).

Stay calm, she told herself. More than ever, you have a reason to say no to Eversly.

As the clock ticked closer toward the earl’s arrival, Aunt Charlotte kissed her on the cheek and left the room. Poppy waited another agonizing twenty minutes. Finally, there was a knock at the front door, and she put her newspaper under a pillow. Kettle, Lord Derby’s elderly butler, greeted the visitor in his usual sober way.

Poppy stood.

Then she sat.

And then she stood.

Finally, the earl, a veritable Adonis, entered the room. He had gleaming blue eyes, a golden curl on his forehead, and shoulders so broad she should feel weak in the knees.

But her knees stayed firm.

“You’re alone.” Eversly’s eyes were warm. She could tell he had genuine affection for her, and she did for him, actually. He was sporting, congenial company, but she couldn’t help thinking of him only as a friend. It was always that way with her suitors, as if there were a big NO stamped on all their foreheads.

Thanks to Sergei.

“Yes,” she told Eversly, swallowing hard. “I am alone.”

They both knew what that meant. Without her father or Aunt Charlotte by her side, she was unchaperoned. Only an engaged or married woman could meet a man alone in a room.

But she wasn’t quite alone, was she? There was her mother–sedate, mature–smiling down at her from her portrait, her wedding rings sparkling on her pale, slender hand. Her hair was the same shining copper color as Poppy’s own wavy locks; her eyes, the identical emerald green.

Lord Eversly moved toward Poppy, skirting a small table and rounding a chair. He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a soft kiss against her knuckles. “We shall do well together,” he said, in a low-timbered voice which should have sent shivers up Poppy’s spine.

But it didn’t.

She stole a glance at his perfect lips. She’d heard from her aunt’s maid, who’d heard from the maid of a widow who’d had an affair with him, that he was a splendid kisser.

“We should,” she said with a little intake of breath, “were we to marry.”

Lord Eversly arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t we?”

“No, we aren’t,” she said in a small voice.

“What?” The earl’s voice became a mere squeak.

Poppy bit her lip. It was always at this point she reminded herself of the Spinsters Club and the vow she’d made with her two very best friends, Lady Eleanor Gibbs and Lady Beatrice Bentley. None of them would marry except for love.

And then, to inspire herself further, she imagined herself kissing Sergei.

“I can’t marry you,” she said to Lord Eversly, feeling braver now. “I’m so sorry.”

And she did feel sorry. He was such a dear.

He winced. “But your father said–”

Poppy blinked. “He doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?”

She was reluctant to hurt him, but she told her usual story. “I’m to be engaged,” she said. “And it’s a love match. Surely you understand.”

“I demand to know his name,” the earl said rather breathlessly.

Sergei, she wanted to say. But instead she said, “The Duke of Drummond.” Her tone was firm but gentle. She’d been through this scenario many times before.

Her other suitors believed she’d met the Duke of Drummond on a walking tour she’d taken in the Cotswolds, but he was totally fictitious, actually, a product of Cook’s lurid imagination. Cook enjoyed making up tales as she stirred her pots and chopped her vegetables, but that was part of her charm (if a floury-faced, wild-haired harridan in the kitchen who tippled occasionally could be called charming).

Indeed, just this morning, Cook told Poppy another outlandish tale about the duke. Poppy already knew he was the mightiest, fiercest duke ever to have walked the earth. And she knew as well that his ancestral castle jutted out over a cliff above the swirling waters of the North Sea. According to Cook, he’d murdered his brother so he could become duke, and to forget his guilt, regularly plunged off this cliff for a swim. Occasionally, he came back up from the depths with a writhing sea creature under his arm, usually one with large, snapping teeth.

Today, Poppy learned the dreaded duke had even fought an octopus the size of a Royal Mail coach–and won.

“Did you say the Duke of Drummond?” the earl demanded.

Poppy yawned. “Yes, he rusticates somewhere far away.”

Eversly drew in his chin. “Never heard of him.”

“He’s quite wicked.”

“Wicked?” The earl raised his brow.

“Wickedly handsome, that is,” Poppy recovered. She thought again of Sergei. “We met three years ago. Remember the year I missed that impromptu boat race on the Thames?”

“Oh, yes. I do recall. My side won, actually. I had a prime spot at the front of the boat, and Miles Fosberry fell in the river. We couldn’t fish him out until we’d finished.”

“Right.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, while you and your team were rowing past your less-favored acquaintances, I was on a walking tour of the Cotswolds. The duke was on one, too. We met at a village fair.”

“But your father–” The earl’s brow puckered. “Lord Derby never mentioned it. He said you were free to accept my offer.”

“Drummond hasn’t exactly offered for me yet,” she explained. “But he’s”–she paused–”on the verge.”

She’d been quite clever to have come up with that phrase–on the verge. Her previous suitors had found it suitably vague, so that when they saw her dancing for weeks and months–and some, for years after her rejection of them–they didn’t think to question her story.

“It’s simply a matter of time,” she said. “I’ve never told my father. It’s my secret”–she lay a hand on her heart–”my secret of the heart.” She allowed her voice to go a bit trembly. “And I’m not willing to reveal it yet, even to Papa.”

Lord Derby would be furious, of course, that she’d turned down the earl’s suit. But surely he’d recover. He was far too busy toiling away for England to waste time being angry at her for long, especially if she cried and told him she was waiting for a true love match, like his and Mama’s.

The earl looked down at his well-polished Hessian boots and when he looked up again, his gaze was both besotted and disappointed.

“I still like you,” Poppy protested. “As a friend. This little…engagement thing between us–let’s forget it, shall we? I’ll see you throughout the Season, won’t I? We can share a waltz.” Although her dream was to share her next waltz with Sergei.

She dared to lean forward and give Eversly a small kiss on his cheek. She wasn’t one to dispense her kisses lightly, and the whole ton knew this of her.

“I shall hold you to that waltz,” the earl said, a little gruff. She could tell he genuinely cared for her. Nevertheless, his old good cheer sneaked back into his tone.

“I look forward to it.” She smiled. “Meanwhile, I know I can count on you to be discreet. Please don’t say a word to anyone about our…conversation.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The earl bowed and left the drawing room without another word.

She waited a few seconds for Kettle to open the front door, then she ran to the window and looked out. Lord Eversly descended the front steps rather slowly. Poppy recognized that walk. It was the gait of a jilted bachelor. She’d induced it in many men.

But by the time he ascended the steps of his fine carriage waiting on the street, the earl’s pace had picked up to his regular jolly one. And why shouldn’t it? He was a wealthy, handsome peer of the realm with tremendous charm. Plenty of women would accept his suit. Why, she’d put a bug in several girls’ ears this very week.

She turned around to see Aunt Charlotte standing in the door, a loose curl from her wig hanging in her eye and making her look quite the scamp. “I heard every word,” she whispered loudly. “I’m so proud of you for following your heart. But–”

“But what?”

“We’re doomed. I hope your emergency suitcase is packed.”

“It is,” Poppy said in a thin voice.

“You know the procedure. Now that Waterloo is behind us, Spinsters in untenable situations no longer retreat to the north of Scotland. We’re forced to go to Paris!”

Aunt Charlotte appeared delighted at the prospect.

“Poppy?” It was her father’s voice. She could hear him in his boots, clomping down the hall toward the drawing room. “That wasn’t the earl leaving, was it? I’ve brandy and cigars in the library to celebrate your betrothal.”

Outside, Lord Eversly’s coachman cracked his whip, and he was gone.

But Poppy’s problems had only begun.


Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

17406272The high school beauty queen…

The face of baby food, the darling of surfing commercials, and the exotic stunner who walked away with the Miss California title at 18, Mary Phillips has heard, “you’re so beautiful” from childhood on. Tired of being her mother’s personal Barbie, she traded in her tiara and a lucrative modeling contract for combat boots and life as a Marine. She’s lost good friends and seen more walking wounded than she cares to admit, but this Marine wouldn’t trade her assignment for all the Manolo Blahniks in the world. What does it matter she has no one waiting at home?

The class nerd…

Kyle Stewart heard every variation as he went through school: nerd, geek, four-eyes, weirdo – and he rolled with it. He could count on one hand the number of girls who ever deigned to talk to him about something other than tutoring. But as the only self-made millionaire from his graduating class, he has the last laugh.

A high school reunion…

Despite the invitation, Mary didn’t plan to attend the 10-year reunion. The last thing she wanted to hear was, “you could have been so much, what happened?” But running into Kyle at the local coffee shop reminds her that not everyone judges by appearance. Kyle once swore to rub his former tormentors noses in his success, but when the reunion rolls around, he’s reluctant to go. Seeing Mary again encourages him to confront his one lingering regret, and the millionaire dares to reach for happiness.

Can Combat Barbie and her nerd overcome the past to love another day?

Why do you need to read this book? This is a wonderful portrayal of the class nerd finally getting the girl. Very entertaining – a good read!

Combat Barbie is available on Amazon


Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

17158028Turning down a billet at Mike’s Place in Dallas, Sergeant A.J. Turner left Iraq for Freewill, Wyoming with one goal in mind—to forget the last five years. Trading his MARPATS for jeans and his cover for a cowboy hat, he plans to work his ranch and pray the green grass, tall trees, and sweet mountains can wash away the taste of the desert.

The last thing he expected was a reminder of a promise made to his buddies: one night to help them all start again.

Sheri Vaughn quit her corporate job, sold her house and moved to Freewill on a whim. Six months after her divorce, she’s hardly ready to put her toe in the dating waters again. One bottle of wine later, however, she signs up for Madame Eve’s exclusive 1Night Stand service and lists a very particular set of qualities she wants in a man; he must be honorable, courageous, forthright, single, have served as Marine, but be a cowboy at heart. If she wants to dream, at least she can dream big.

But when local hero A.J. Turner arrives home, Madame Eve comes through, and Sheri has to find the courage to make her dream a reality…

Can one night, even a night arranged by Madame Eve, fulfill both a promise and a dream?

Why do you need to read this book? I loved the premise of the 1NightStand service. Pick up this book and let me know what you think!

The Marine Cowboy is available at Amazon


Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

16163164Fall in love with Jazz, Logan and Zach in Retreat Hell, She Just Got Here.

Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand service introduces Gunnery Sergeant Jasmine “Jazz” Winters to best friends and retired Marines, Logan Cavanaugh, and Zach Evans. At the end of their night of frenzied passion in Las Vegas, Jazz walks away from the only two men who ever made her feel like a woman. Logan and Zach let her go, but only if she swears all of her future leaves to them.

These three Marines shared everything, but will one night be enough?

Live happily ever after with them in No Regrets, No Surrender

Waiting fourteen excruciatingly long months, visiting Jazz when they can, is harder on the guys than they like to admit. But their work at Mike’s Place, a veteran’s rehabilitative facility, only lets Zach and Logan go one at a time.

Jazz fears their unconventional relationship can’t last a lifetime. The stress of years of military service in hot zones, combined with life-threatening injuries pushes her to the edge. But when she comes home a wounded warrior, not the woman she believes they want, Zach and Logan are right there to help her, even when she resists.

She’s not alone. And whether she chooses one man or both, they have no regrets and they won’t surrender.

Why do you need to read this book? I fell in love with this story of three damaged Marines and how they decided to carve out a non-traditional life together!

No Regrets, No Surrender is available at Amazon


Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

17875169Brains before Beauty, that’s Rachel Newberry’s motto, especially when her quiet, orderly life is interrupted by international rock star, Jaydon Hawke. And true to her word, brains take center stage when she discovers Hawke has a lot more on his mind than beautiful music. Targeted by a madman, Rachel puts her trust in Hawke, a move that may cost both their lives.

Why do you need to read this book? I loved the character of Hawke. He is the classic strong and handsome hero. This book is a joy to read!

Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll is available at Amazon


Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!


Release date: 4/15/14 TODAY!!


From New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent comes the third in her Random series:

You ever really think that you’ll win the lottery? Meet Mr. Right? How about two Mr. Rights?

Somehow the universe is handing me everything I want (except for that lottery part…), and I

don’t like it. Not one little bit. Because just when you get all your dreams handed to you on a

silver platter, that’s when an airplane dumps its sewage on your house. Or your mama’s diabetes

takes a bad turn. Or your mobile phone gets stuck in your hoohaw.

(What? It happens…)

Boring old average me got everything I wanted already, moving from small-town Ohio to

big-city Boston to follow my heart. So when the fancy invitation offering me a pile of money

to come with the band, Random Acts of Crazy, to perform on an island resort and be their

manager arrived, I thought it was a cosmic joke. Enough money to help my mama get what she

needed, five days in sunny paradise, and a shot at greatness for the band? Unreal. One big shoe

was waiting to drop. On my head.

Just like no one really ever finds a naked man wearing only a guitar standing by the side of

the road hitchhiking and ends up falling in love with him and his friend and moving halfway

across the country for true love, no one gets an invitation to come to what turns out to be a

resort where people make what me and Joe and Trevor do together look like a chaste peck on

the cheek. But…


I guess these things do happen.

To me.

Pick up a copy:

Amazon  |  AmazonUK  |  iBooks


Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

18142675-the-last-wicked-scoundrelWilliam Graves is the last of Feagan’s scoundrels. A one-time grave robber turned royal physician, he has devoted his life to saving others, because he knows there is no way to save himself. Especially not around a lady such as Winnie. Though underserving of her touch, he cannot resist, his passion cannot be tamed…even in the face of certain danger.

Winnie, the Duchess of Avendale, never knew peace until her brutal husband died. With William she’s discovered burning desire—and the healing power of love. But now confronted by the past she thought she’d left behind, Winnie must face her fears…or risk losing the one man who can fulfill all her dreams.

Why you need to read this book. I LOVE William. This book put a perfect end to a wonderful series that I loved! William survived a horrendous childhood to become a doctor with the help of his friends. He is one of the queen’s doctors and has fallen in love with a duchess. True love wins in the end. Bring some kleenex to the reading of this wonderful book!

The Last Wicked Scoundrel is available at Amazon


At a ball…In a moonlight garden…When desire can no longer be denied…

“I don’t want you to be afraid, Winnie.” He cursed himself for the ease with which her name rolled off his tongue.

“I’m not when I’m with you.”

You should be, he thought. God help her, but she should be. Whatever reservoir of control he possessed dissipated.

With a harsh curse echoing between them, he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were as plump and soft as he’d always imagined, parting slightly, hesitantly, inviting him to take further liberties. And he was scoundrel enough to accept the invitation.

She moaned as he swept his tongue through her sweet mouth. She tasted of champagne, and he wondered if she were at ease with him because she’d had a few glasses too many. Then his wondering turned to wonder as her tongue explored his mouth with equal fervor. The advantage to being with a widow. She wasn’t innocent. God, he knew she was far from that. She clutched the lapels of his jacket. Closing his arms around her, he brought her in closer to him, until her body was pressed against his. He could feel her curves, her dips and swells. He cursed the clothes separating them.

Her nails scraped his scalp just before her fingers trailed along his jaw. Sighing, she wound her arms around his neck, bringing herself even nearer.

For three years now, he had dreamed of this moment, fantasized about it, envisioned it, but had never dared believe he would ever possess it. He didn’t want to give it up, didn’t want to stop. He delved deeper, unleashing the hunger he’d held in check—for her, only for her.

She deserved someone far better than he, someone who didn’t lie, who didn’t hold secrets, who could sit with her before a fire and never fear being honest. But with her, he would always have to watch his words, always take care in what he revealed. She had said she wasn’t afraid of him, but he knew that if she understood exactly what he was capable of doing she would be terrified. She wouldn’t trust him. He doubted that she would like him; she most certainly would not love him.

Even kissing her had the possibility of leading to disaster—and he wasn’t the only one whose life might be ruined. He should pull back now. And he would.

After one more moment.

One more moment of her sighs and moans. One more moment of her lush body writhing against his. One more moment of her arms entwined tightly around him as though she would never let go.

He wanted to undo fastenings. He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her to her bedchamber. He wanted to do all the things he shouldn’t. But indulgences came with a price, and he couldn’t in all good conscience ask her to pay it.


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