Jodi Ellen Malpas's Blog, page 5

This Woman Forever Cover Reveal!

It had to be, didn't it? Always in lace. The third and final book in the This Man retelling from Jesse's POV will publish May 14th.

Pre-order now: https://geni.us/YhAA
Start the series: https://geni.us/UDCc4a

This Woman Forever Cover Reveal!

It had to be, didn't it? Always in lace. The third and final book in the This Man retelling from Jesse's POV will publish May 14th.

Pre-order now: https://geni.us/YhAA
Start the series: https://geni.us/UDCc4a

With This Woman Excerpt

“Are you religious?” I ask. A small hesitation, and for a second I’m worried she’ll hit me with the news that her parents—whom I am yet to meet—are church goers.
“No,” she eventually says.



“Me neither.” That’s helpful. The churches seem to be the busiest, and I doubt I’d be accepted into the house of God anyway. “Do you have any preference on dates?

What for?”

Her obvious confusion pulls me away from a viable option—a country club on the outskirts of Kent. “Is there any particular date you would like to become Mrs. Ava Ward?” God, that sounds amazing.

Recognition dawns on her, and we’re quickly both on the same page. “I don’t know, next year, the year after?” She plucks some bread out of the toaster, happily slapping some butter on, and I stare at her, alarmed, oblivious to the jar slipping out of my hand. It hits the marble with a clang, getting Ava’s attention and knocking me from my inertness.

“Next year?” I splutter.

“Okay, the year after.” Sinking her teeth into her toast, she smiles. She fucking smiles like waiting two years to get married is something to celebrate.

“The year after?” she adds tentatively.

“We get married next month.” And that’s going to be a painful wait. “Next fucking year,” I say in disbelief, getting more peanut butter. Apparently, we’re not on the same page. Not even the same book. Hell, she’s in a completely different genre to me.

“Jesse, I can’t marry you next month,” Ava says, laughing.

“Yes, you can and you will,” I grunt when the lovely country club just outside Kent shows there’s nothing available for the next eighteen months. This is ridiculous. Why the hell would anyone wait so long to tie the knot? So much can happen in that time. For example, one person could change their mind.
“No, I can’t.” Ava’s still laughing. Like . . . this is funny?

I put my jar down with a heavier hand than intended, and Ava jumps. She can’t? No, she won’t, and that’s different territory. “Excuse me?”

“Jesse,” she says, exhaling, and I can see she’s falling into a pacifying state. “My parents don’t even really know about you. You can’t expect me to call them up and break this sort of news down the phone.”

Fuck it all. The parents. If John was here, he’d smash my head onto the counter. I’m tempted to do it myself. “We’ll go and see them. I’m not pussyfooting around, Ava.” God, listen to me. Yes, I am hearing myself. No, I can’t help it.

I stare at her, as she stares at me. I hate that she’s so worried about me meeting her parents. What the hell does she think I’ll do? Bang my fists on my chest, toss her onto my shoulder, and steal her away from them? I’m a rational man. I would never come between Ava and her parents.

“You’re being unreasonable.” She looks at me with too much disdain for my liking, nibbling at her toast.

“Do you love me?” I ask.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Good.” So let’s get on with this. “I love you too. We get married next month.”

Her toast hits her plate, her eyes closing briefly to gather herself. She’s digging her heels in, and that’s not what I need right now. I need acquiescence. “Jesse, I’m not marrying you next month.” She takes her plate to the bin and drops the rest of her toast in there. I can see what’s coming a mile off. She’s going to walk away.

“Come here,” I say, feeling my heartbeats quickening. It’s unstoppable. Annoying. Almost like an alarm bell that’s goes off inside me to warn me shit’s about to go down, or, in other words, Ava is leaving.

“No,” she says simply, facing me, her determination worrying. So perhaps I need to fuck some sense into her. Convince her in a way we both love. “And you are not going to be fucking an agreement out of me,” she fires, reading my mind, making me recoil. “Forget it.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Ava,” I grumble, going for the jugular. It’s not failed me yet. “Three.”

Poor thing, her eyes nearly pop out of her head. Why’s she so stunned? This is what we do. Spar with words. Then with bodies. Ava says no to something she wants, and I convince her I’m right and she’s wrong. “Oh no.” She laughs. “Don’t even think about it.”

Too late. I’ve thought about it, and it’s happening. “Two.”

“No,” she warns.

I smile to myself as she scans the space, searching for an escape. I get up and brush off my hands, getting ready to catch her. The countdown. Best invention ever. It takes a heated discussion to heat of another kind. It’s our way of resolving our differences. And best of all, I always come out on top. Literally. “One.”

“Jesse, you can fuck right off!” She flinches herself this time, a sign that even she hates her swearing. And another clue, if ever I needed one, and I don’t, that she’s in it to wind me the hell up.

“Mouth,” I yell, not wasting anymore time. “Zero, baby.”

Pre-order With This Woman (Book 2 of the This Man retelling from Jesse's POV) https://geni.us/H8NgRW2

An excerpt from The American

 

It’s excerpt time! If you subscribe to my newsletter, you’ll have had this little treat already. Wouldn’t hurt to read it again, though. INTERESTING FACT: This is one of the excerpts from the book we used in the auditions for the audio book.

Order NowAmazonAppleB&NKobo From The American

I come to a stop at a set of lights and take the opportunity to be courteous and text Allison to let her know I’m ten minutes away. As I slip my phone back into my inside pocket and look up at the lights, something over the road catches my attention.
Red.
My heart begins to beat double time as I watch Pearl move in on an ATM, a can of soda in her hand. The shape of her body in that black dress. Her ass.
Fuck.
No.
I curse that curvy ass off to hell and back for being so fucking reckless. Alone. This time of night. Using a fucking ATM. And I thought she was ill? If she’s sick, she should be at home in bed.
A horn sounds, making me startle in my seat, and I look up to see the lights have turned green. “Fuck it,” I hiss, pulling away, staying in lane, rather than indicating and moving across toward the sidewalk to stop. She’s not my concern. Danny and James can deal with this.
I cruise past the ATM, eyes forward, hands holding the steering wheel tightly, thinking of the pussy waiting for me. The distraction. No complications. No pissed off Rose and Beau. No conscience. Because all I can offer is an emotionless fuck. I can’t rescue her from the clutches of traffickers and then violate her.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Shit.” I release one hand from the wheel and hit the screen on my dash, pulling up my recent calls. I dial Len.
“Brad,” he says.
“Were you asked to pick Pearl up after her shift tonight?”
“Yeah, she called and said she didn’t feel well and was getting a cab home. Didn’t want to wait for me to come from the boatyard.”
“Right.”
“Everything alright?”
“Fine.”
“Am I getting Anya at the normal time?”
“Please.” I hang up and look up at the rear view mirror, to the flash of red getting smaller. Keep driving, keep driving. My knuckles begin to turn white on the wheel. My shirt starts to stick to my back. “Jesus Christ, Brad,” I mutter, indicating and cutting across the traffic to the side of the road, earning myself a collection of angry horns. I get out and stride up the sidewalk toward the ATM, looking at the endless potential threats to a young woman in central Miami at this time of night. I’m fucking livid. With her. With me.
I see Pearl pull some notes from the machine and slip them into her purse as she backs away from the ATM, and when she looks up and sees me stalking toward her, she stops dead in her tracks, her lips—those fucking lips—parting a little, her chest rising.
An inhale.
My vision fogs for a moment, a red haze blinding me. I’m putting it down to anger. I should be at the Four Seasons fucking my way to a clear conscience. Instead, I’m chasing stupid little girls around town. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yell as I approach, my skin burning.
Anger.
Pearl backs up, wary, the can of soda she’s holding coming closer into her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“You don’t look very ill to me.”
She blinks, frowns, looks completely caught off guard. “I’m—”
“And why the fuck did you tell Len you’re getting a cab?”
“I wa—”
“And cash at this time of night? For what?”
“I—”
“Get in the fucking car.” I throw my arm back, indicating my Mercedes down the street, and she recoils.
“Excuse me?”
“Now.”
“Fuck you, Brad,” she whispers angrily. “Go fuck some whores in a hotel and shove some coke up your fucking nose.” She tosses her can of soda in a nearby bin with anger and accuracy—that pisses me off too—then storms past me, and I turn with her, watching her go. Fuck you?
No, fuck you.
She doggedly marches straight past my Mercedes, and to add insult to injury, flips me the bird.
“The fuck?” I go after her, my ego ruling me. She is one brave woman, and I’m a killer in a foul mood.

Order NowAmazonAppleB&NKoboOther Books in the Series

The post An excerpt from The American appeared first on Jodi Ellen Malpas.

The American Has a Cover!

Holy good Lord, hello. Welcome, The American, to the Unlawful Men Series!

 

I look forward to sharing a blurb with you very soon, but in the meantime you can pre-order this beauty now. The American releases March 12, 2023 and will be available on all retailers for a couple weeks before it enters KU with the rest of the series.

You are going to LOVE being in Brad’s head.

JEM x

Buy Now.vcex-multi-buttons.vcex_65056a5e268e8 .theme-button,.vcex-multi-buttons.vcex_65056a5e268e8 .theme-txt-link{letter-spacing:var(--wpex-tracking-tighter);font-weight:400;text-transform:capitalize;}Order now on Amazon Order Now on AppleOrder Now on KoboListen now on B&NOther Books in the Series Check Out the Other Books in the Series

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An Excerpt from With This Woman

An excerpt from WITH THIS WOMAN On sale Oct 31st 2023 in all formats “Are you religious?” I ask. A small hesitation, and for a second I’m worried she’ll hit me with the news that her parents—whom I am yet to meet—are church goers.“No,” she eventually says.

 

“Me neither.” That’s helpful. The churches seem to be the busiest, and I doubt I’d be accepted into the house of God anyway. “Do you have any preference on dates?

What for?”

Her obvious confusion pulls me away from a viable option—a country club on the outskirts of Kent. “Is there any particular date you would like to become Mrs. Ava Ward?” God, that sounds amazing.

Recognition dawns on her, and we’re quickly both on the same page. “I don’t know, next year, the year after?” She plucks some bread out of the toaster, happily slapping some butter on, and I stare at her, alarmed, oblivious to the jar slipping out of my hand. It hits the marble with a clang, getting Ava’s attention and knocking me from my inertness.

“Next year?” I splutter.

“Okay, the year after.” Sinking her teeth into her toast, she smiles. She fucking smiles like waiting two years to get married is something to celebrate.

“The year after?” she adds tentatively.

“We get married next month.” And that’s going to be a painful wait. “Next fucking year,” I say in disbelief, getting more peanut butter. Apparently, we’re not on the same page. Not even the same book. Hell, she’s in a completely different genre to me.

“Jesse, I can’t marry you next month,” Ava says, laughing.

“Yes, you can and you will,” I grunt when the lovely country club just outside Kent shows there’s nothing available for the next eighteen months. This is ridiculous. Why the hell would anyone wait so long to tie the knot? So much can happen in that time. For example, one person could change their mind.
“No, I can’t.” Ava’s still laughing. Like . . . this is funny?

I put my jar down with a heavier hand than intended, and Ava jumps. She can’t? No, she won’t, and that’s different territory. “Excuse me?”

“Jesse,” she says, exhaling, and I can see she’s falling into a pacifying state. “My parents don’t even really know about you. You can’t expect me to call them up and break this sort of news down the phone.”

Fuck it all. The parents. If John was here, he’d smash my head onto the counter. I’m tempted to do it myself. “We’ll go and see them. I’m not pussyfooting around, Ava.” God, listen to me. Yes, I am hearing myself. No, I can’t help it.

I stare at her, as she stares at me. I hate that she’s so worried about me meeting her parents. What the hell does she think I’ll do? Bang my fists on my chest, toss her onto my shoulder, and steal her away from them? I’m a rational man. I would never come between Ava and her parents.

“You’re being unreasonable.” She looks at me with too much disdain for my liking, nibbling at her toast.

“Do you love me?” I ask.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Good.” So let’s get on with this. “I love you too. We get married next month.”

Her toast hits her plate, her eyes closing briefly to gather herself. She’s digging her heels in, and that’s not what I need right now. I need acquiescence. “Jesse, I’m not marrying you next month.” She takes her plate to the bin and drops the rest of her toast in there. I can see what’s coming a mile off. She’s going to walk away.

“Come here,” I say, feeling my heartbeats quickening. It’s unstoppable. Annoying. Almost like an alarm bell that’s goes off inside me to warn me shit’s about to go down, or, in other words, Ava is leaving.

“No,” she says simply, facing me, her determination worrying. So perhaps I need to fuck some sense into her. Convince her in a way we both love. “And you are not going to be fucking an agreement out of me,” she fires, reading my mind, making me recoil. “Forget it.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Ava,” I grumble, going for the jugular. It’s not failed me yet. “Three.”

Poor thing, her eyes nearly pop out of her head. Why’s she so stunned? This is what we do. Spar with words. Then with bodies. Ava says no to something she wants, and I convince her I’m right and she’s wrong. “Oh no.” She laughs. “Don’t even think about it.”

Too late. I’ve thought about it, and it’s happening. “Two.”

“No,” she warns.

I smile to myself as she scans the space, searching for an escape. I get up and brush off my hands, getting ready to catch her. The countdown. Best invention ever. It takes a heated discussion to heat of another kind. It’s our way of resolving our differences. And best of all, I always come out on top. Literally. “One.”

“Jesse, you can fuck right off!” She flinches herself this time, a sign that even she hates her swearing. And another clue, if ever I needed one, and I don’t, that she’s in it to wind me the hell up.

“Mouth,” I yell, not wasting anymore time. “Zero, baby.”

ORDER NOWThe This Woman Series

The post An Excerpt from With This Woman appeared first on Jodi Ellen Malpas.

WTW Excerpt

An excerpt from WITH THIS WOMAN On sale Oct 31st 2023 in all formats “Are you religious?” I ask. A small hesitation, and for a second I’m worried she’ll hit me with the news that her parents—whom I am yet to meet—are church goers.“No,” she eventually says.

 

“Me neither.” That’s helpful. The churches seem to be the busiest, and I doubt I’d be accepted into the house of God anyway. “Do you have any preference on dates?

What for?”

Her obvious confusion pulls me away from a viable option—a country club on the outskirts of Kent. “Is there any particular date you would like to become Mrs. Ava Ward?” God, that sounds amazing.

Recognition dawns on her, and we’re quickly both on the same page. “I don’t know, next year, the year after?” She plucks some bread out of the toaster, happily slapping some butter on, and I stare at her, alarmed, oblivious to the jar slipping out of my hand. It hits the marble with a clang, getting Ava’s attention and knocking me from my inertness.

“Next year?” I splutter.

“Okay, the year after.” Sinking her teeth into her toast, she smiles. She fucking smiles like waiting two years to get married is something to celebrate.

“The year after?” she adds tentatively.

“We get married next month.” And that’s going to be a painful wait. “Next fucking year,” I say in disbelief, getting more peanut butter. Apparently, we’re not on the same page. Not even the same book. Hell, she’s in a completely different genre to me.

“Jesse, I can’t marry you next month,” Ava says, laughing.

“Yes, you can and you will,” I grunt when the lovely country club just outside Kent shows there’s nothing available for the next eighteen months. This is ridiculous. Why the hell would anyone wait so long to tie the knot? So much can happen in that time. For example, one person could change their mind.
“No, I can’t.” Ava’s still laughing. Like . . . this is funny?

I put my jar down with a heavier hand than intended, and Ava jumps. She can’t? No, she won’t, and that’s different territory. “Excuse me?”

“Jesse,” she says, exhaling, and I can see she’s falling into a pacifying state. “My parents don’t even really know about you. You can’t expect me to call them up and break this sort of news down the phone.”

Fuck it all. The parents. If John was here, he’d smash my head onto the counter. I’m tempted to do it myself. “We’ll go and see them. I’m not pussyfooting around, Ava.” God, listen to me. Yes, I am hearing myself. No, I can’t help it.

I stare at her, as she stares at me. I hate that she’s so worried about me meeting her parents. What the hell does she think I’ll do? Bang my fists on my chest, toss her onto my shoulder, and steal her away from them? I’m a rational man. I would never come between Ava and her parents.

“You’re being unreasonable.” She looks at me with too much disdain for my liking, nibbling at her toast.

“Do you love me?” I ask.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Good.” So let’s get on with this. “I love you too. We get married next month.”

Her toast hits her plate, her eyes closing briefly to gather herself. She’s digging her heels in, and that’s not what I need right now. I need acquiescence. “Jesse, I’m not marrying you next month.” She takes her plate to the bin and drops the rest of her toast in there. I can see what’s coming a mile off. She’s going to walk away.

“Come here,” I say, feeling my heartbeats quickening. It’s unstoppable. Annoying. Almost like an alarm bell that’s goes off inside me to warn me shit’s about to go down, or, in other words, Ava is leaving.

“No,” she says simply, facing me, her determination worrying. So perhaps I need to fuck some sense into her. Convince her in a way we both love. “And you are not going to be fucking an agreement out of me,” she fires, reading my mind, making me recoil. “Forget it.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Ava,” I grumble, going for the jugular. It’s not failed me yet. “Three.”

Poor thing, her eyes nearly pop out of her head. Why’s she so stunned? This is what we do. Spar with words. Then with bodies. Ava says no to something she wants, and I convince her I’m right and she’s wrong. “Oh no.” She laughs. “Don’t even think about it.”

Too late. I’ve thought about it, and it’s happening. “Two.”

“No,” she warns.

I smile to myself as she scans the space, searching for an escape. I get up and brush off my hands, getting ready to catch her. The countdown. Best invention ever. It takes a heated discussion to heat of another kind. It’s our way of resolving our differences. And best of all, I always come out on top. Literally. “One.”

“Jesse, you can fuck right off!” She flinches herself this time, a sign that even she hates her swearing. And another clue, if ever I needed one, and I don’t, that she’s in it to wind me the hell up.

“Mouth,” I yell, not wasting anymore time. “Zero, baby.”

ORDER NOWThe This Woman Series

The post WTW Excerpt appeared first on Jodi Ellen Malpas.

UK Sale!

A Gentleman Never Tells by Jodi Ellen Malpas is on sale for just 99p in UK stores!

Download your copy today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3IRre93
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3H5KNcC
Kobo: http://bit.ly/3IS5dqL
Google Play: https://bit.ly/3P6AiIH

An excerpt from a Gentleman Never Tells

Out Sept 28, 2023 Order nowRead the first book Order now A GENTLEMAN NEVER TELLS(Available now on eBook in the UK, releases Sept 28th on audio and paperback. Available Feb 2024 on all formats in the US & CA)

The carriage starts rumbling along, and Taya pulls out a fan, wafting it leisurely in front of her face, blowing her unmanageable hair around her face. My God, what is she doing? I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think that the hair matches the owner. Unmanageable. Let it be known, that fan is not there to cool Lady Taya Winters down, for London is hardly boasting soaring temperatures today. No, that fan is a tool, and by God it works.
She gazes out of the window, smiling over the top of it, and I swallow, as Sampson declares his departure, virtually diving out of the window.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ I blurt, practically lunging for his leg to save him from falling to the cutting stones. Of course, I miss it, for the man moves fast, and I look out of the window, turning my head to see up onto the roof.

He’s sitting up there, relaxed, taking in the view. ‘Such a waste to be cooped up like chickens in there,’ he says happily, turning his eyes to me. ‘Behave, won’t you, Melrose, while I am up here, and you are down there with my sister?’

I huff and pull myself back into the carriage, and I get as comfortable as one can in such a situation. Which is what, I ask myself. What is the situation? Just an attractive lady? I am used to those. But this one? Perhaps it is because she is forbidden, for everyone wants what they cannot have. I reach into my pocket to retrieve my story and distract myself by reading for a time, so I may ignore the rather pleasant feeling of her eyes on me. I frown, feeling around in my pocket. My heart begins to race. ‘Oh no,’ I murmur, scanning the floor at my feet. The bench either side of me. My lap. ‘Bugger it all, no.’

‘Looking for this?’

I peek up and find Lady Taya waving a foolscap folio before her face, the piece replacing her fan. I gasp and reach forward, snatching it from her grasp, and she recoils, surprised. My God, did she read it?

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

I scowl to myself and tuck it away, looking out of the window. ‘I apologise, I did not mean to act so sharply.’

“What is it?’ she asks.

‘Private.’

‘Oh? You won’t tell me? Not even if I promise to keep it a secret?’

I peek at her, and she starts wafting that fan again, her smile hardly seen. Unmanagable! ‘Oh please,’ I say, unable to stop myself. ‘Your tactics are insulting.’ Does she think I’m that shallow? And then it occurs to me that perhaps she does. My God, does everyone think I am so shallow? One dimensional? That a seductive smile and a silent promise may influence me. I feel sick. Wait. What is she promising?

Frank!

She laughs, and it is like sweet whispers in my ear. ‘I do not have tactics, Mr Melrose. I’m simply curious.”

‘Well, my lady,’ I smile, and it is forced. ‘A gentleman never tells.’

‘Tells what?’ she asks quickly and strongly, coy, letting her smile loose. She needs to stop smiling at me immediately. And laughing. In fact, she shouldn’t talk to me or look at me either.

I raise my eyebrows and return to admiring the view, ignoring her question, but am disturbed from the challenge of pretending she isn’t here when she starts shifting in her seat. I peek out the corner of my eye, watching her, as she rootles in the top of her dress. What is she doing? I gulp, my eyes rooted on the creamy flesh of her chest, until she eventually pulls something out and unfolds it. She settles again, pulling a pencil from her pouch, and starts tilting her head back and forth, concentrating as she studies the paper, taking the pencil in every so often and flicking it here and there. I frown, craning my head to see what it is she is doing.

Her hand stills. She glances up. And I quickly divert my attention to the view. I can feel her smiling eyes on me, and I sigh, looking at her, making her aware that I am aware of her tactics, though why she is doing this is beyond me.

I scowl and she smirks. My God, she’s infuriating. I try to settle, I try so hard, but I continue to fidget terribly, the tension thick. Sexual tension?

‘So,’ she says, and I blink, snapped from my brief silent wondering. ‘What do you think to this marriage between my brother and your sister?’ she asks.

‘Is it not a trifle too late to be asking for opinions on this joining?’ I don’t look at her.

‘Perhaps,’ she muses. ‘But do you think it is a good coupling? I love my brother dearly.’

‘As I love my sister, too, my lady.’

‘Well, my brother is a duke. Our family is renowned.’

It is as if she thinks it her responsibility to look out for her brother. For Christ’s sake, her brother is an athletic, six-foot four-inch bison of a man, and she is a petite, slender, willowy female with, I realise now, an air of self-importance about her. ‘Your family, my lady, were renowned for being dead.’ She flinches, as do I. Did I just say that?

‘I beg your pardon?’

God damn me. ‘I mean …’ Hell, what do I mean? ‘My sister is a beautiful woman inside and out.’ I level Lady Taya Winters with a serious look, forcing myself to withstand the beauty which is now glaring back at me. ‘Our family owns the most successful newspaper in London, and soon beyond.’ How dare she question our position. Our worthiness. We’ve worked hard for it. I inwardly wince. Papa has worked hard for it. Eliza has worked hard for it. Me? ‘Stop the carriage!’ I yell, making Taya shoot forward abruptly when the horses skid to a stop.

‘Oh my!’ she shrieks.

‘Hell!’ Sampson shouts from the roof.

I catch Taya and ease her back onto her seat. ‘I think I shall walk from here,’ I say gently, getting out of the carriage, feeling suffocated by both the enclosed space and who is in it, and by my apparent shortcomings.

‘Mr Melrose, I didn’t––’

‘Good day to you, my lady.’

‘Where are you going, Melrose?’ Sampson yells, righting his splayed body on the roof.

I slip on my hat and start the long walk home, pulling my story out of my inside pocket and reading it for the thousandth time, getting tingles from top to toe once again. Imagine, I think, as I wander alone, how new eyes will feel reading it for the first time if I myself am awed? This is better. Air to breathe freely. My focus reset.
The nerve of that woman. Dislike her. I must dislike her, and she has given me good cause.

It will be a hell of a lot easier than lusting after her.

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Unlawful Men Book 5 has a title!

 It’s Brad’s time!

 

And without further ado, I give you the title for book 5 of the Unlawful Men Series…

 

THE AMERICAN

 

Cover reveal: Sept 15th.

Bloggers and reviewers promote sign up here

Release date: March 12th.

Buy NowOrder now on AmazonOrder Now on KoboOrder Now on AppleOrder now on B&NOther Books in the Series

The post Unlawful Men Book 5 has a title! appeared first on Jodi Ellen Malpas.