BETHANY Aura Draco clutched the hands of her husband and mate, Mathonwy Draco, King of the New Wales Dragon Clan and Duke of Draco, as they recited the words of the priestess, “For all the days of our lives, now and into the land of forever.”
The golden fire in his eyes burned for her, and he held her hands as the priestess bound them together.
Match witches.
Bethany still couldn’t believe that all this time, they were match witches.
As a matter of fact, as the handfasting drew to a close, she felt the mating bond with Math grow stronger, more vibrant, and it tapped into the wellspring of her powers.
Her magic surged through her and through Math, who smiled.
Yeah, he felt it, too.
She just bet that the other girls had felt the power surge, too.
Bethany grinned at her dragon, and Mathonwy leaned down to kiss her to conclude the handfasting.
When his lips touched hers, Bethany’s powers snapped into place, and she was whole.
~
Dragons & Fire
is the final book in the
Dragons & Witches series.
Hope you enjoyed them!
If you haven’t read them all,
check out all 3 books!
to go to Blair Babylon’s Website.
CLICK HERE TO SEE WORKING STIFF!
Rox was standing in Cash Amsberg’s corner office in the law firm again, listening to him rant, again.
If he hadn’t been so damn sexy, she might have had to put a stop to this. But he was, so she just ranted along with him.
It was kind of their thing.
At least Rox wouldn’t get fired from this law firm for being a “hothead.” She wasn’t a hothead. She was a Southern belle with a fiery temper, a tradition harkening back to the founding of Virginia. She would have done well in bygone eras, stamping her foot beneath her flowing hoop skirts and cursing like “Fiddle-dee-dee!”
Except for maybe that last part. Rox enjoyed a good cussin’ when the situation called for it. Not that the situation called for it too often. But sometimes, she went biblical on people who desperately needed to be told that she would smite them and salt the Earth.
Cash Amsberg pointed to a sentence in the contract, stabbing at the thick sheaf of paper with his finger. “What the bloody hell could Monty mean by this section? He must have known we would strike it off. It’s not even a negotiating point. There’s no way we would let Gina Watson sign this. Why would he even suggest such a thing?”
They were standing on the same side of Cash’s mahogany desk. He leaned over the contract, bracing both hands on the edge. Windows broke open the walls on two sides of the room. The afternoon California sun blazed in, glaring on the scarlet design of the Oriental rug covering most of the floor. Cash’s enormous diploma from Yale Law School hung above the couches at the back end of the office.
Dark bookcases packed with leather-bound books lined the other two walls. The books were mostly for show because the law firm had done all their research via LexisNexis for years, but Rox had caught Cash reading the hard copies late at night sometimes, rubbing his eyes.
He ran his hand through his hair, a sign that he was perilously close to losing his cool. She’d only seen him do that a few times, once when a Taiwanese film director had insisted that Cash play golf with him. Cash had appeared to be in good humor and had shot a perfectly respectable ninety-two, but he had returned to their hotel and ranted about The Damned Scottish Game for half an hour. Rox had laughed at his tantrum until he started chuckling about how his ball had gone into the water three times on the seventh hole.
Rox flapped her hands at her sides, narrowly missing Cash’s broad shoulder. “I cannot believe that he would even try such a dick move. That’s why I put a red flag sticky on it, so you would see that part first. Does he think we’re redneck idiots?” She emphasized redneck with her Southern accent to camp it up.
Cash scowled. “He must think we’re idiots. He must think we’re all idiots, every one of us, if he thought no one here would catch this.” Cash’s upper-crust British accent made them sound like the King of England conversing with a redneck colonist.
When Cash got all heated up like this, he literally got hot under the collar, and the subtle cologne that he wore—sandalwood and cinnamon and vanilla—crept out of his sharp designer suit and crisp white shirt. She tried not to lean in to catch a whiff, but she could just smell it when he was having a good rant. She could almost taste the vanilla on her tongue, as if she had her mouth pressed to his neck.
“This is one of Valerie’s contracts,” Rox reminded him.
Cash ran a hand through his hair. “Surely Monty doesn’t think that Valerie wouldn’t have caught this. Was he counting on her illness throwing us in such disarray?”
“This came in the very morning that Val had her stroke. I don’t see how Monty could have known that that was gonna happen. He’s still an asshole of the first degree, both for thinking that Valerie and her paralegals would miss this and for trying to do this to Watson. I mean, these frickin’ autobiography rights have nothing to do with the movie. It’s just a jackass rights grab.”
“This is egregious,” Cash muttered, his British accent turning more clipped. “Monty has gone senile or something. Call Patty. Mention it in passing. See what you can get out of her.”
Patty was Monty’s paralegal at his law firm. She was in Rox’s lunch bunch of girls who ate meals and went to movies together sometimes, mostly chick flicks. Rox went with them when she could escape from workaholic Cash, who liked to work through meals, and nights, and other appointments.
He shook his head. “Perhaps she can give us some insight into his thought processes, such that they are.”
Rox refrained from rolling her eyes and nearly sprained an eyebrow from the effort. “I don’t think Patty is going to do any industrial spying for us, not after you didn’t call her the next day, or ever again.”
“She didn’t care,” he said, waving his hand to dismiss that.
“Oh, I assure you, she cared,” Rox told him.
Cash raised an eyebrow at her. He seemed genuinely puzzled. “Did she?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rox had heard from Patty about what an asswipe her boss was for weeks, and Rox hadn’t disagreed, not when she knew that ghosting was Cash’s favorite modus operandi to end relationships. He took women out on a couple of dates, screwed them a few times, maybe kept up the appearance of something that was becoming substantial for a few weeks, and then dissipated into thin air, poof. He became unreachable, untextable, untouchable. As far as the women could figure out, he might as well have turned into a ghost, even if they worked in the same office and saw him every day.
Which was one of the many, many reasons why Rox would never date him.
One of many, many, many reasons.
Other women looked far, far up at Cash’s brilliant, intense green eyes, the dark blond streaks in his auburn hair and his pale scruff of beard, and the hard lines of his cheekbones and jaw line.
They dropped their panties even before he took off his perfectly cut suit and silk shirt to reveal his broad, rounded shoulders, those chiseled abs like cobblestones on his flat stomach, and the deep vee of his obliques that pointed below his tight boxer-briefs.
They were lost before he whispered to them in that cultured, sexy accent and far before they saw the top-of-the-line Mercedes Maybach that he drove to his rumored enormous, manicured estate in the foothills. No one had ever been there, but everyone said that his house was huge without any evidence whatsoever.
Yep, Cash was several inches over six feet tall, emerald-eyed, ripped, gorgeous, his tailored suit clinging to his athletic body, sporting a British accent, and loaded.
Shockingly, women swooned over him.
Even after he ghosted on them, every admin and paralegal and client in the office still flirted with him. When he walked by their desks, they pushed their boobs together with their elbows and smiled up at him, blinking rapidly.
The one time he got a little bit of road rash on an elbow playing basketball on the roof of the parking structure, they fawned over him and brought him cookies the next day to raise his spirits, even though he had laughed the whole thing off at the time.
But not Rox. Never.
The afternoon sun heated the corner office, and Cash had already taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, baring the strong ropes of muscle on his forearms, the rough hairs on his tanned skin, and his tattoos. On his right forearm, above his wrist on the inside, three shields surrounded some kind of a triangular Celtic knot thing. It was small, maybe three inches across. The orange shield that pointed down at his hand had a white figure on it like a stylized lion rearing up with extended claws. The other shields were blue with three crowns and a red and white diamond checkerboard.
On his left arm, ink trailed tendrils of black fire all the way down to his wrist.
He glared at the Watson contract as if the paper had offended him.
Other women might fall across his desk, hike up their suit skirts, and let Cash screw them face-down on the green blotter.
But three years ago, the other women in the office had warned Rox about Cash.
Manwhore.
Ladykiller.
Heartbreaker.
He was a walking, waving cluster of red flags.
And Rox had been fresh meat.
At first, she had assumed that he wouldn’t be interested in a chubby, dumpy, short, brunette Southern belle such as herself, not in an office swarming with slim California blondes.
When he had walked by her desk at ten o’clock that first morning, Rox had suppressed the gasp that had sucked into her mouth and through her body.
When he turned his head, gazing into her soul and her heating chest and her very cells, she gripped her mouse like she might fall off her office chair.
She had wiped beads of sweat off the mouse afterward where she had clutched it.
Stunning, she thought later, when her brain had rebooted. He was stunning. Looking at him made the world stop.
No wonder he could get away with loving ‘em and leaving ‘em.
“Why?” Rox had finally asked Melanie, one of the beautiful-blond admins. Rox could tell Melanie apart from the rest of the herd of golden beauties by the strawberry highlights in her hair. “Why would women have casual sex with him if he’s just going to dump them like that?”
“Well,” Melanie had mused, and her smile turned sentimental and vague. “He’s never a jerk about it. There’s never a fight. There’s no drama. He never calls a woman a slut afterward, ever, or says anything bad about her to anyone, as far as we can tell, and we all talk a lot. He won’t even confirm or deny anything. And he’s,” she cleared her throat, “attentive.”
Rox frowned. “Like, he listens to you?”
“Yeah, that, too.” Melanie twiddled with a piece of paper on her desk and wouldn’t look at Rox.
“You mean that he told you that he loved you?”
“Oh, no. He’s not mushy at all. A good time is had by all, but he doesn’t lie about what’s going on. He doesn’t talk about ‘love’ at all.”
“But there’s something else,” Rox prompted. “He’s attentive—”
Mel cleared her throat. “In bed. I mean, you know. He’s good in bed.”
Rox shrugged, wanting to reach over and snatch that shredded paper away from the blonde. “A lot of guys are good in bed.”
Mel glanced up at Rox, her blue eyes serious and direct. “Not like him.”
Rox had tugged her sundress lower on her thighs the whole afternoon that first day, but after that, Rox had worn professional-class suits, either skirts or pants, but definitely suits, and wedding rings.
Since then, in the three years that Rox had worked with Cash as his paralegal, he had humped and dumped at least fifty women, and those were just the ones she knew about for sure. The actual number was probably higher.
He didn’t seem to have a “type,” either. He liked the skinny-willowy ones and the shortie-curvy ones, the pale redheads and the delicate blondes and the gorgeous raven-haired, the porcelain-skinned and the golden-tanned and the cocoa-dusted, the nubile nineteen-year-old interns and the silver-fox lady partners, and all the women in between.
Cash even sent out discreet, non-threatening sexual feelers to the seven lesbians who worked at the law office, just in case any of them were actually a little more toward the center of Kinsey scale than they had previously thought themselves. One was. For two and a half weeks, Ginger declared herself bi-for-a-guy, which is not the usual meaning of that term but she owned it. She got along with Cash better than any of the other women, afterward.
Rox had watched them all traipse into Cash’s bed and then out of his life.
All the admins stared at Cash with weepy doe eyes. All the other paralegals teared up or blushed when they saw him stride through the office. The women attorneys were businesslike and courteous to him, but their glances turned sharp when he wasn’t looking.
The clients, however, still flocked to him, flirted with him, and went for round two in record numbers.
And then he ghosted them again.
The actresses didn’t seem to care much about his retreats. They were used to ninety-day shoots, so to speak.
The models probably didn’t have the attention span to notice his absence.
And, for some unholy reason, the guys in the office loved him. You would think that, with Cash sopping up all the available women, that the men would be competitive or derogatory, but they were all bestest buds with him. He was a great guy, always up to go have a beer with, or to watch a game with, or to be on a league team with.
He charmed them, too.
But Rox was the only person in the office who could work with him.
Now, after three years, every time Rox went in for quarterly evaluations with the senior partners, her paycheck fattened, just by her suggesting that she might be looking at other, less tempestuous law firms. They couldn’t let her leave, not with just about everyone else emotionally unable to work with Cash.
Some of the women threw themselves at him, hoping for another taste. He usually accepted their offers, but the ghosting came sooner the second time or the third.
Some of them stared at the floor and mumbled around him, stealing glances at his chest or lower, but dodged when he came too close, unwilling to go through it again.
It was a matter of concentration and efficiency, really. The women imagined his hands taking the sheaves of paper from their fingers for hours, imagining a brush or a touch, and failed to get the damn work done.
And so Rox made out like a proverbial bandit.
She had bought herself an awesome sports car last month even though she knew she should be saving for a down payment on a house, and she grinned just thinking about the drive back to her apartment.
But sleep with beautiful, brilliant Cash Amsberg?
Never.
And he had never hit on her, anyway. Not even once. Not even a little bit.
Not in any serious way. He joked around a lot.
But she could tell that he was just joking. It was pretty obvious.
Cash wasn’t particularly a chubby chaser, anyway. Not only could he have any woman whom he wanted, he actually had them all, one after another.
“Well, talk to Patty anyway,” he said, poking the Watson contract again. “See if she’ll do it for you.”
Rox flicked the red plastic tag hanging onto the margin of the page. The sparkling stones in her wedding rings caught the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows and threw spangles over the office for a moment, illuminating the heavy desk and running down Cash’s bare arms.
He saw the glitter on his arm, tracked the points of light to her rings, and shifted his weight away from her.
There was only one type of woman that Cash Amsberg was not interested in.
He did not hit on married women, not even once, not even a little.
Rox said, “Fine. I’ll call Patty and see if she wants to grab a drink after work today.”
Cash said, “We appreciate you taking one for the team.”
And that was the only way that Rox was going to take one for the team of Arbeitman, Silverman, and Amsberg. “Yeah, whatevs.”
Cash smiled at her, his lush lips sliding apart over his straight, white teeth, and his green eyes sparkled with humor. “Thanks, work-wife. Have I told you that I love you today?”
That time, Rox let it happen, and the muscles at the corners of her eyes strained from her epic eye-rolling. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
He laughed, his broad shoulders lifting. “Only you, Rox. You’re my rock.”
“Yeah, the ball and chain holding you in this law firm. If it weren’t for me, you would probably be the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court by now, writing learned opinions about which of the lawyers arguing the case in front of you was better in bed, the redhead with the fake boobs or the black woman with the low-cut top.”
He was laughing harder now. “Surely I’m not so bad as all that.”
“Worse. You’d probably have all the lawyers, the women ones anyway, in your chambers in some sort of a horrible orgy on your huge law desk, and then they’d all kiss and make up and dismiss the case. It would be the only Supreme Court session where absolutely no decisions were handed down, and you would go down in history as the Screw It All Court.”
Casimir fell backward onto the couch, his long legs splayed, both his arms wrapped over his stomach and giggling helplessly. “Stop.”
“All right, fine. But seriously, at least with me, you get the work done.”
“Yes, I can trust you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and shaking his head. “Now, did Bessie from Universal send us the DiCaprio contract yet?”
“Yep. Got it this morning.” She waved her phone, indicating email.
“When can I see it?”
“Soon as I read it and flag it.”
“This evening, then?”
“Not if I’m gonna be pimping Patty for information about Monty.”
He shrugged, his white shirt sliding over the thick muscles of his chest and arms and straining around his tight waist. “Come back afterward. We can get delivery from that new Thai place around the corner and go over it.”
Rox waggled her left hand at him, letting the cubic zirconia stones in her rings catch the sunlight again and trying to flash the spangles in those brilliant green eyes of his. “I’ve got to see my own husband sometimes. I’ll check out the file before I leave so I can look at it when I get home.”
The law firm’s draconian security system didn’t let them access files from outside the office unless they had been checked out, a stupid process involving speed-typing security codes.
“Oh, Grant. Leave your husband, Grant, for me, Rox. I’ll take you to Fiji for our honeymoon.”
They played this game a lot, too, sometimes every day. “Never. He’s six-foot-seven and a blond-bearded Norse god.”
Cash mused, stroking the soft hairs of his short beard, “Last week, you said he was six-three, two seventy-five of pure muscle, and a Latin lover.”
“Grant is all things to all women,” Rox said, her chin held high.
“Is he coming to the office volleyball tournament this weekend? We could use a guard, if he really is that tall.”
Yet another opportunity for Rox and all the other female staff to view Cash with his shirt off, displaying his rippling abs and black tattoos, always an impressive sight. A tribal-looking tattoo illustrated the left side of his body. A swirl of black fire on his round pectoral muscle spread into flames that reached over his shoulder to his back, trailed down his left arm all the way to his wrist, and slid over his rippled stomach to duck into his waistband.
Rumor suggested that the ink ran down the cut vee of his belly, over his hip, and to the middle of his thigh, but Rox had not seen that much of his skin.
“No,” she said, blinking. “He’s busy working on his screenplay, and that’s taking up a lot of his time. One of the series that he does stunts for is going to start shooting next month, so he has to get his script done because choreographing the stunts gets in the way of his writing. He gets really sore from being beaten and blown up all day. And he’s thinking of auditioning for ‘American Obstacle Course Warrior’ this year.”
Cash frowned. “I saw one of their contracts. It was reprehensible. Don’t let him sign anything unless we look at it first.”
“Josie Silverman always looks over his contracts.”
He nodded. “Josie is good. All right, then. But come back to the office tonight.”
And spend yet another long night curled up on those couches under Cash’s diploma, feeding each other with chopsticks or plastic forks, battling legal wits and cracking jokes, while she watched that beautiful man harmlessly flirt with her, that gorgeous man who was so delicious on the outside but poison when tasted?
Not if she could get out of it.
Rox lied, “I need to spend a little time with my actual husband instead of my work-husband.”
She didn’t have an actual husband. She had fake wedding rings set with the finest cubic zirconia that worked perfectly as an Cash Amsburg-repellent. She did have three rescue cats who loved her, though.
Cash laughed. “Tomorrow morning, then?”
“You’ll get it when it’s done. You know that Bessie will try at least one thing like this,” she tapped the red flag in Watson’s contract, “for her studio. Maybe she’ll try to tie Leo down to a fifty-year right-of-first-refusal clause or something.”
Cash shook his head. “Why do we always play these games? It’s going to end the same way.”
Rox glanced at him, wary, but the seriousness in his green eyes meant that he was talking about the movie studios’ contract shenanigans. She said, “I couldn’t say, Cash.”
He pushed off the desk, his biceps pumping under his shirt, and ran a hand through his gold and bronze hair. “Until tomorrow, then. What would I do without you?”
Rox lifted her nose in the air as she walked away. “Wither away and die, I s’pose. Good night, Cash.”
She went back to her own office, a much smaller, interior room. The only window was beside the door and looked down a corridor between cubicle dividers. None of the other paralegals had a separate office, instead working in the cubicle farm in the center room, but Rox got whatever she wanted from HR.
She sucked in a deep breath.
It was exhausting, sometimes, being around him, knowing that she shouldn’t, knowing that she must not, and waiting for a touch or a glance from him that never came.
CLICK HERE TO SEE WORKING STIFF!
~~~~~
Want to read about aristocratic billionaires instead? Try the Runaway Billionaires series, which are funny, sexy romps with courageous, loyal men who are so much more than the naughty playboys with jet airplanes and fast cars they appear to be. (3 Books.) CLICK HERE.
Or do you like your billionaires tall, blond, blue-eyed, dominant, and royal? Meet Wulf, a secret Billionaire in Disguise (2 Books, first book FREE.) CLICK HERE.
Do you like your billionaires to rock hard? Rock star Xan Valentine is the lead singer for Killer Valentine, and he has a huge secret. (4 Books, first book FREE.) CLICK HERE.
Want something a little darker? Theo rescues Lizzy from a BDSM relationship gone bad, but they end up in a suspenseful chase through the Southwest to Paris. (4 Books, first book FREE.) CLICK HERE.
Or you can read about a modern-day princess who escapes from her abusive ex by running away with her bodyguard who was her first love, and he never stopped loving her. (5 Books, first book FREE.) CLICK HERE.
~~~~~
Hello!
I hope you’ve enjoyed these three light paranormal romances about dragons and witches! I had a good time writing them. They’re far outside my usual books’ topics of billionaires, ingenues, and danger, but we all need a break now and then, a palate-cleanser, if you will.
I’ve always loved to read a wide variety of books, including contemporary romance (of course,) PNR, fantasy and urban fantasy, mysteries, and science fiction. Basically, I like to read everything except horror. I don’t like horror. In these PNRs, you can probably see the influences of all the fantasy that I’ve read. Of course, even my contemp romances have some influences. Wulf von Hannover bears a striking resemblance to Prince Corwin of Amber and Prince Elric of Melniboné. Interestingly, Melniboné is also known as the Dragon Island, which might explain my ongoing fascination with dragons. Indeed, when my friends Violet Vaughn and Deanna Chase originally opened up the LoveSpells line to outside writers, I was like, “Dibs on dragon shifters! Dibs on the dragon shifters!!!!!” And thus, Dragons & Witches was born.
The little aside in several of these books about the shy bear shifter girl that the witch trio went to high school with is a direct reference to Vivian Arend’s bear shifter PNRs, especially Copper King, which is the cutest little PNR that I’ve read in a long time. Viv talked with me for hours and helped me brainstorm these books when I was lost as to how and where to start them. She’s an amazing writer and a generous lady. You should check out Viv’s website here, and her Takhini Shifters series including Copper King here.
If you’re primarily a PNR reader, I hope you’ll try my usual romance novels, too. Many of my series starters are free, so go get them and see if you like them! You can see a Reading Order of all my books here, or just browse the covers and find a guy, er, a book you like here.
If you’ve read other Blair Babylon books, did you like the proverbial Easter eggs, LOL? I had a little too much fun putting them in. Make sure you’re caught up on all my books at this Reading Order list!
As always, thank you for reading,
Blair
~~~~~
BILLIONAIRES IN DISGUISE SERIES
READING ORDER
Here’s the theoretical and chronological reading order:
Working Stiff (Runaway Billionaires #1, Casimir)
Stiff Drink (Runaway Billionaires #2, Arthur Duet, Part 1)
Hard Liquor (Runaway Billionaires #3, Arthur Duet, Part 2)
Billionaires in Disguise: Rae, Complete Omnibus Edition (includes “Rae Falling”)
“An Extravagant Proposal” (A Side Story for Billionaires in Disguise: Rae)
Falling Hard (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #1)
Playing Rough (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #2)
Breaking Rules (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #3)
Burning Bright (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #4)
“Alwaysland” (Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan, A Prequel)
What A Girl Wants (Rock Stars in Disguise: Rhiannon)
Somebody To Love (Rock Stars in Disguise: Tryp)
Every Breath You Take (Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie and Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan, #1) (includes Rae/Wulf civil wedding) ~FREE!
Wild Thing (Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie and Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan, #2)
“Skiing in June, A Rae and Wulf Epilogue #1” (Billionaires in Disguise: Rae)
“Kidnapped, A Rae and Wulf Epilogue #2” (Billionaires in Disguise: Rae)
“Rae and Wulf: At the Hospital”
Lay Your Hands On Me (Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie and Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan, #3)
Nothing Else Matters (Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie and Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan, #4)
“Montreux, A Rae and Wulf Epilogue #3” (Billionaires in Disguise: Rae)
The Rock Star’s Secret Baby (Rock Stars in Disguise: Cadell)
“Dream On” (Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie and Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan, Epilogue #1)
“Keep Dreaming”
Santa, Baby (Rock Stars in Disguise: Peyton)
Runaway Princess Bride (Billionaires in Disguise: Flicka)
In Shining Armor (Runaway Princess #2) (Billionaires in Disguise: Flicka)
In A Faraway Land (Runaway Princess #3) (Billionaires in Disguise: Flicka)
At Midnight (Runaway Princess #4) (Billionaires in Disguise: Flicka)
Happily Ever After (Runaway Princess #5) (Billionaires in Disguise: Flicka)
Stiff Competition (Runaway Billionaires #4, Maxence)
You don’t have to read everything perfectly in this order. I try to recap or make books as standalone as possible. The mini-series within this overall list, such as the Lizzy books or the Georgie books, should be read in order. ~BB
Also, just so you know what you’re getting up there, novel-length books are in italics, like this, but “short forms,” like short stories and novellas, are in “quotation marks.”
Check for New Releases by Blair Babylon at Kobo
~~~
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Q. Are Blair’s Billionaires Books erotic romance or erotica?
A. Blair’s Billionaires Books are all erotic romance or contemporary romance.
Erotica generally centers around the sex act, a preponderance of the page count is given to the sex act, and the main characters usually do not build a life together after the sex act. The main character usually discovers or accepts something new about herself or himself, thus it is a journey of self-discovery.
Erotic and contemporary romance concerns itself with the two people falling in love and, usually, building a life together in a very, very sexy way. Romance novels generally end with an HEA (Happily Ever After) or at least an HFN (Happy For Now).
Q. I want to read more of The Billionaires in Disguise Books. How can I be notified when another one is published?
A. Sign up for the email mailing list HERE. Email subscribers get discounts or free episodes in addition to special deleted scenes and epilogues.
Q. I want to tell you how awesome The Billionaires in Disguise Books are. Where can I tell you this?
A. The best way to support writers whom you enjoy is to leave a review at your ebook store, even a short one. Blair reads all her reviews at all the ebook stores and appreciates every one of them.
You can email Blair Babylon by putting her name in the subject line when you email Malachite Publishing. She loves to hear from readers, reads every email, and does her best to respond to everyone. You can also connect with Blair via her Facebook Group or Goodreads Page.
Q. Do you have a study guide for book groups?
A. Seriously? You’re reading The Billionaires in Disguise Books in a book club? Blair wants to hang out with your awesome dirty book club. Email her above. She likes to Skype or do Google Hangouts with book clubs.
About Blair Babylon
Blair Babylon is an award-winning author who used to publish literary fiction. Because reviews of her mainstream fiction usually included the caveat that there was too much deviant sex in her novels, she decided to abandon all literary pretensions, let her freak flag fly, and write hot, sexy romance novels. She’s having much more fun, now.
You can chat with Blair Babylon at:
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Again, thank you for reading!
Blair Babylon
Shockingly, Blair likes to talk.
You can chat with Blair Babylon at:
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