Fluffy
Julia Kent
Publication date: April 30th 2019
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

An all-new STANDALONE from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent

 

It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did.

 

I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.

 

Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.

 

See? That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.

 

Until it was too late.

 

The ad for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day.

 

The perfect job!

 

Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch.

 

They arrange other soft, round-ish objects.

 

The job isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or, well… helping other people to be hard.

 

Oh, man…

 

And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. In a vacation rental.

 

By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house staging gig turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with an undressed naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naivete.

My job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined?

 

Having all my dreams come true.

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—

EXCERPT:

“Do you use the proper terms for everything, Mallory?” He makes an inarticulate sound as I peel the gauze off the cut, wiping gently. “You call your pretty place a vulva, right? And you use the word vagina.”

“’Pretty place’?”

He shrugs.

“And yes, I do. Vulva and vagina. And then there’s the clitoris,” I say primly.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“A clitoris. Never heard of it.”

I freeze and look down at him. Bright eyes meet mine. Is he serious?

“The clitoris is a nerve cluster above the opening to the vagina,” I begin, taking a breath to continue my impromptu human sexuality lecture, because when a man tells you they don’t know what a clitoris is, you educate them immediately.

For the sisterhood. All the women Will is going to sleep with from here on out will thank me later.

He starts to laugh. I’m so tempted to pour the small bottle of isopropyl alcohol directly on his wound, but I’m a kind, compassionate woman, so instead I dab it on with a swab.

“OW!” he bellows.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry at all.”

“I’m sorry for your sex partners that you have no idea what a clitoris is, Will.”

“I know what it is. And my tongue knows how to find one. Blindfolded.”

“Why would you blindfold your tongue?”

Author Bio:

 

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.

 

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Shopping for a Baby’s First Christmas

By: Julia Kent

(Shopping, #15)

Publication date: December 6th 2018
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

My mother wants all her kids and grandkids to spend Christmas Eve at her house and wake up on Christmas morning together.

 

Sounds reasonable, right?

And it would be.

If it weren’t my mother.

 

My husband, Declan, is protesting any involvement, though he’s openly intrigued by the idea of claiming his territory by suggesting we have sex in my childhood bed.

 

And by ‘suggest,’ I mean make a series of really hot offers that make me whimper when I have to say no.

 

Wait – why am I saying no again?

 

Mom has turned her house into a Christmas showcase that makes Frankenmuth look like the picked-over clearance rack at Target on December 26. You know those crazy people on Etsy who make felted gnomes out of belly button lint and use … a certain kind of hair… to make thatched roofs on little decorative elf homes?

 

Those people are saner than my mother.

 

There is no force of nature stronger — and more emotionally volatile — than a fifty-something grandmother determined to create holiday memories.

 

Wait a minute. Maybe there is.

 

My husband.

 

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—

EXCERPT:

“Mmmmm,” I hear myself purring as I open my eyes in the big king-size bed at our Victorian B&B here in the Berkshires. A bed that I can stretch out in, because I smell coffee from afar and Dec isn’t between the sheets.

Neither is our seven-month-old daughter, Ellie.

I have the entire bed to myself. I might be married to a billionaire, but when you’re the mother of a clingy baby, this right here is true luxury.

A whiff of cinnamon accompanies that coffee and now I wonder if I’m dreaming. My naked body rolls against the high-thread-count Egyptian cotton and my legs are smooth. As I stretch, I realize my nipples are free. No one is touching me.

This must be a dream.

In real life, there would be a baby babbling “Da da da da da” in tones that either mean happiness, terror, hunger, or plain old pay-attention-to-me-now-because-I-am-the-center-of-the-universe, you-underling.

But not now.

In real life, there are always busy fingers exploring my ears and pulling my earrings and poking into my my mouth when I try to talk on the phone.

And in real life, little teeth bite down, hard, when my milk runs out.

So I must be dreaming, because as I open my eyes, a handsome, hot, endlessly naked man is smiling at me, hair tousled over his forehead as he holds two steaming mugs of coffee and says in a low, happy voice, “You’re up!”

Author Bio:

 

Gillian has a bachelor’s degree in mining engineering but prefers to spend her time on happily ever after. She writes the kind of stories she loves to read—the hotter the better!

 

When Gillian’s not pounding away on the keyboard, she can be found surfing the couch indulging in her latest reality tv fixation, baking something ridiculously tasty (and horrible for her waist line) or snuggling with her husband.

 

Home is currently in the wilds of Nevada with her amazing husband, ridiculously cute kiddo, and goofy dog.

 

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Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby
Julia Kent
(Shopping for a Billionaire #13))
Publication date: April 24th 2018
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

You know what’s even better than marrying a billionaire? Having his baby.

 

We’re ready. We’ve studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it’s time.

 

And by we I mean me.

 

Declan’s just ready for the “have lots of sex” part. More than ready.

 

But there’s just one problem: my husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition.

 

And by little, I mean stupid.

That’s right.

 

We’re not just about to try to bring a new human being into the world.

 

We have to do it better, Faster, Stronger.

 

Harder.

 

McCormick men don’t just have babies.

 

They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.

 

I thought the hardest part about getting pregnant would be dealing with my grandchild-crazed mother, who will go nuts shopping for a billionaire’s baby.

 

Wrong.

 

Between conception issues, my mother’s desire to talk to the baby through a hoo-haw cam, a childbirth class led by a drill sergeant and a father-in-law determined to sign the kid up for prep school before Declan even pulls out, my pregnancy has turned out to be one ordeal after the other.

 

But it’s nothing — nothing — compared to the actual birth.

 

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby is the newest book in Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series.

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—

EXCERPT:

“Just because other people can’t get their act together as parents doesn’t mean we can’t,” I explain. “There is no process that can’t be project managed into a well-oiled machine, babies included.”

Andrew snorts. “You really believe that.”

“A baby is like a disruptive new technology. But our first deliverable is still eight months to a year away. That leaves us plenty of time to update our practices and diversify into new areas. Find the best people, incentivize them, and keep them in their swim lanes.”

I’m getting major raised eyebrows here.

“Optimization protocols, testing, fine tuning, and putting together the right team is all it takes. Drill down to the essentials, find people who are the absolute best at what we need, and that’s it–we build a life based on optimal outcomes.”

“You sound like you’re making a robotic dog, Dec. Not a human.”

“This baby will have a hands-on father. Plenty of love. And with a mother like Shannon, how could we go wrong?”

Mother.

Calling Shannon a mother does something to my gut.

A tug, hard and emotional, destabilizes me for a second.

Author Bio:

 

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.

 

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