Q. What could be better than getting a billionaire for Christmas?
A. Getting THREE billionaires for Christmas!
Three Wise Men is a series of three books set in the sub-tropical Northland of New Zealand following the stories of three billionaire brothers and the single mums they fall in love with.
The Perfect Gift (Three Wise Men, #1)
As a single mum who can barely afford to put food on the table, let alone fill her son Ryan’s Christmas stocking with presents, Erin Bloom isn’t particularly looking forward to the festive season. When Ryan has an asthma attack and ends up in hospital, she’s convinced it’s going to be the worst Christmas ever. Sure, Christmas is a time for miracles, but everyone knows wishes don’t really come true.
Consultant pediatrician Brock King lost his wife to cancer two years ago, and he’s convinced the love he felt for her only comes around once in a lifetime. Then, while visiting the children’s ward, he meets single mum Erin, and suddenly his future doesn’t seem so bleak.
Once Ryan recovers, Brock offers to take Erin away for her birthday, no strings attached, to give her the perfect gift every single mum would kill for—a night in an exclusive hotel. Will she take him up on his offer, which might (if she’s very lucky) end up with hot sex with a gorgeous billionaire? Or should she take the moral high ground and say no?
Warning: Includes sexual content – adults only.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, “I know it’s inappropriate this early on a date, and Matt would kill me if he could hear me, but all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you. Is that terrible?”
Erin moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Well, maybe we should test the water, so to speak. Try it and see how we feel afterward.”
“Maybe we should.” His heart thundered, but he told himself, Take it slow. He waited for a moment as she unclipped her seatbelt, and he inhaled the sweet summer breeze that filtered into the car, bringing with it the smell of the sea and the scent of sun lotion from Erin’s skin.
She turned and moved forward a little in her seat, leaning an elbow on the rest between them, and tipped her head to the side as she met his gaze.
Brock moved to meet her, resting one arm on the seat behind her, and lifted the other hand to cup her face. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, across the freckles that peppered her lightly-tanned skin, and lowered his mouth, stopping when his lips were a fraction of an inch from hers.
Her breath whispered across his lips as she exhaled. So close, and yet he hadn’t kissed her yet. There was still time to stop, to put off this last, final betrayal. If he moved back now, he’d be able to tell himself he’d remained faithful to Fleur. He would have fought his weakness and stayed strong in his grief, encased in the shadows in which he’d hidden for the last two years.
But the day was too beautiful, full of light and life. A couple of huge Red Admiral butterflies fluttered past the window, and a flash of color behind Erin told him a rosella had swooped over the grass. In the distance, the children of the family having lunch at the picnic table laughed as they threw a Frisbee to one another, and someone called out from the boat further down on the water. It was summer, and it was almost Christmas, a time to celebrate the birth of things, not the end.
Erin was waiting patiently, maybe sensing his internal struggle, her gaze gently caressing his face. Her hand came up and she trailed a finger along his eyebrow, removing a strand of hair that the breeze had blown into his eye, and her touch--even though it was innocent and innocuous--was enough to flick a switch inside him.
He let out the breath he’d been holding, a long slow sigh of acceptance.
Erin’s lips curved up a little, and then she moved the last fraction of an inch to touch her lips to his.
They were as soft and light as if one of the butterflies had brushed against him, the briefest of kisses, tentative and shy enough to make him melt.
She moved back a little and met his gaze again as if to say, Okay?
Brock felt as if he’d been kissed by summer itself. How could anything as beautiful as that be wrong?
After giving a short, exultant laugh, he slid his hand into her hair, and lowered his lips again.
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An Ideal Present (Three Wise Men, #2)
This year, Ophelia Clark isn’t looking forward to Christmas. Her ex-husband, Dillon, doesn’t want to be her ex anymore, and their daughter, Summer, wants him there on Christmas Day, so Ophelia’s finding it difficult to convince him their marriage is over. The last thing she needs is to start dating someone else and cloud the issue. And then the cute doctor she’s had her eye on finally asks her out.
Research scientist Charlie King has given up on relationships. Going without sex is a major drawback to that plan, but even though he has an IQ one point off Einstein’s, he considers himself hopeless with women. When he discovers the gorgeous Ophelia is now single, though, he decides to give himself one last chance to find love.
Logic tells Ophelia to wait until her divorce is through before getting involved with a new man, but her body hungers for the sexy scientist, and it doesn’t help that Charlie can’t keep his hands off her. Christmas looms full of the magic of their new love affair, and then Summer falls ill and ends up in hospital.
Ophelia’s torn between duty and desire. Should she follow her head and close this chapter of her life before she opens the next? Or should she follow her heart and give herself the ideal present—the prospect of forever with the man of her dreams?
Warning: Includes sexual content – adults only.
He stroke his thumb across her bottom lip. “And I want to kiss you. May I kiss you?”
She looked over her shoulder, saw the carriage with the girls disappearing around the corner, and looked back up at him with a shy smile. “Okay.”
Sliding his hand into her hair, he moved a little closer and lowered his lips. But he didn’t kiss her immediately. He let his lips just touch hers, and then waited, enjoying the notion that he was finally dating this beautiful woman, reveling in the anticipation of being about to kiss her. A small part of his brain noted the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, and he felt an answering increase in his heartbeat as his blood raced around his body. Her pupils had dilated, and he knew his would be doing the same, their bodies responding to invisible pheromones in an age-old instinctive seduction. Her lips parted, her sweet breath entwining with his, and she closed her eyes. Charlie kept his open for a moment though, observing the flush in her cheeks and how soft her lips looked, before he lowered his mouth the final fraction of an inch, and kissed her.
He closed his eyes. He was barely moving, just pressing his lips to hers in the slowest, softest kiss, and yet his senses were awakening, blooming like a flower. A tiny part of him was conscious of the laughter of children in the distance, the rumble of the roller coasters through the ground beneath his feet, the brush of the summer breeze across the back of his neck, the silkiness of her hair slipping through his fingers, the smell of sun lotion on her skin. But the majority of his consciousness focused on her lips, and how it felt to touch his to them.
Why did the kiss feel so erotic when the only place he was touching was her lips and her hair? They were in public, and hardly anyone gave a passing glance at their innocent smooch.
But it was sexy and intimate to be so close to her after having worshipped her from afar for so long. To have his mouth on hers, and then, when he touched his tongue to her lip, to have her tongue slide against his, warm, slick, and sensual. He could taste the chocolate mints they’d bought earlier and eaten together, and he shivered when her hand rose to cup his cheek, her light touch bring goose bumps out on his skin in spite of the warmth of the day.
But it was the way she returned the kiss, as if she was enjoying it, as if she wanted to kiss him back more than anything in the world, that fired him up and meant he had to fight with every ounce of willpower he possessed not to slip his arms around her and pull her to him so he could feel all of her soft body.
He lifted his head and gazed at her through a haze of sexual longing.
“Oh...” she whispered, looking up at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He didn’t kiss her again, conscious of people passing by as his senses reawakened to the world, but he didn’t move back either, not wanting the delicious moment to end.
“Like I’m a melting ice cream cone,” she said.
His lips curved up. “What a great description. And yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
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A Secret Parcel (Three Wise Men, #3)
Georgia Banks’s life is falling apart. She’s done her best to stay strong since she lost both her husband and her home in the Christchurch earthquake over four years ago, but her eleven-year-old son, Noah, is going off the rails, and some days it’s all she can do to get out of bed in the morning. Luckily, she has a great job working for the We Three Kings Foundation, helping to make the wishes of sick children come true. It does mean seeing the gorgeous Matt King on a regular basis though, which is both torture and delight rolled into one. He’s relentless in his pursuit of her, but so far she’s managed to ward him off. The last thing she needs is to have her heart broken by the handsome but shallow playboy.
Children’s author Matt can’t stop thinking about sexy Georgia. She insists he’s only interested in her because he can’t have her. He concedes she could be right, but how will he know until he’s sated his hunger? Eventually, she agrees to a brief fling, but that only seems to make the fire between them burn hotter. Matt wants more, but even though Noah seems to like him being around, when Matt unearths Georgia’s troubled past he decides it’s time to move on before he gets too entangled. As Christmas approaches, though, he discovers that love can be like mistletoe, infiltrating and binding two people together until it’s impossible to separate their hearts.
By the time of the party on Christmas Eve, all three King brothers are in love. Will there be enough Christmas magic to make all their dreams come true?
Warning: Includes sexual content – adults only.
Slowly, he pulled his hands out of his pockets. She waited, half-expecting him to push her away.
He didn’t, though. He placed his hands on her hips, turned her, and moved forward, forcing her to back up a few steps. She met the wall behind her with a bump and a gasp, and slid her hands down to rest on his chest to steady herself.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, and as she looked up at him, words deserted her. He was so tall, his broad shoulders and wide chest filling her view, his aftershave invading her senses until all she could see, think, and feel, was him.
He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, and his gaze caressed her face, the look in his hazel eyes so intense and sexy that suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. His low voice sent a shudder through her. He gave a short, helpless laugh as she shivered in his arms. And then he kissed her.
Georgia’s fingers splayed on his chest, and her head spun as her senses tried to register everything she was feeling. The firmness of his muscles and the warmth of his skin through his shirt beneath her fingertips, and when she placed her palms on his ribs, his rapid heartbeat beneath her hand. The slight brush of his five o’clock shadow against her cheek. But most of all, the touch of his lips to hers, soft and dry. The kiss was light and innocent, but still so incredibly intimate after months of not touching him that her face burned and an involuntary sigh of pleasure escaped her.
Apparently seeing it as confirmation that this was what she wanted, Matt slid his hand into her hair to hold her head and moved closer, pinning her to the wall with his body. She gasped, and as her lips parted he brushed his tongue into her mouth and turned the dial up to eleven.
Georgia had never been kissed like it. Now she understood the phrase ‘kissed senseless’, because she was certain that when he stopped--if he stopped, because he was showing no signs of doing so at the moment--she wouldn’t know which way was north and which was south.
His mouth moved across hers with a possessive passion she hadn’t known existed, while his tongue teased and played with hers until she tingled all over. His left hand stayed in her hair while his right slid around her hip to hold her against him, but he didn’t try to grope her breast or unbutton her jeans. Instead it was as if he put all his concentration into the kiss, which felt just as intimate as if he’d stripped her naked.
He wanted her--that was obvious. But he didn’t take advantage of her, and he didn’t assume, and by the time he finally lifted his head to look down at her, it took all the willpower she possessed not to beg him to take her to bed.
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Serenity Woods lives in the sub-tropical Northland of New Zealand with her wonderful husband and gorgeous teenage son. She writes hot and sultry contemporary romances and much rather immerse herself in reading or writing romance than do the dusting and ironing, which is why it’s not a great idea to pop round if you have any allergies.
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