She’s a Spitfire (Tough Love #2)
Author: Chloe Liese
Genre: Adult Romantic Suspense
Publication Date: June 24, 2019
Description:
One fiery-haired, sexy scientist finds her perfect complement in a dark and handsome soccer star. Opposites attract, and they’ve got chemistry that’s explosive—literally.
Physics calls it entropy. Philosophy calls it Murphy’s Law: If something can go wrong, eventually it will. Professionally and personally speaking, Zed’s familiar with the principle. After a decade of trying to alter the atomic makeup of the mafia from its nucleus, now he’s set on leaving The Life and pursuing his heart. Problem is, the sassy, hot-headed spitfire he can’t quit is meddling in his slow burn escape plan, and turning it into full-on combustion.
Not to mention, Nairne’s got a painful history she won’t talk about and more secrets than she has lab instruments—which is really saying something. In an ideal world, the bad boy footballer would follow the brainy beauty overseas and they’d live happily ever after. But Murphy’s Law is proven true, as Zed finds his world imploding and his escape plan foiled. These enemies turned lovers end up discovering how costly it can be to meet the right person at the wrong time.
A present he can’t escape.
A past she can’t forget.
A future they won’t stop fighting for.
They say all’s fair in love…and war.
Book Two in the Tough Love Series—an enemies to lovers, suspenseful romance, full of sexy Italians, feisty heroines, globe-trotting action, and an ending that’ll both satisfy you and leave you ready for more!
Hitting womanhood in France under the spotlight of footballer stardom, and the socialite attention that Elodie and I garnered was not a typical teen experience. In France, if you were rich enough to get into elite clubs, you were old enough to drink. Obscenely expensive whiskey, fine wine, absurd gambling and dares. Nights that turned into mornings, full of dancing and groping, covert bathroom fucks, and morning after pills.
I hadn’t been a saint. With my family gone, I’d been answerable to no one, and Elodie was my partner in crime and best enabler. She drank us all under the table and danced the longest, sang the loudest, and if you got her tanked enough, she’d start playing virtuosic piano pieces. The woman could bloody play.
In that time, I hadn’t any serious, committed relationships. Then I’d gotten injured and shut down. And then I’d gotten hot and heavy with biomechanics and molecular design, multivariate calculus, and human systems. Enter Zed. Though he was outside my experience with both the duration and exclusivity we agreed to, we’d felt…manageably reactive at first. Our exposure to each other had an expiration date, a definite closure to our explosive dynamic. But then we went from a contained flame to a four-alarm fire.
It was the point when you stood back and watched the consuming burn with an acceptance that all the water in the world wasn’t going to quell the inferno. And not only that it wasn’t going to, I didn’t want it to. I’d been cold and lifeless too long, and when Zed had sparked with me, made me fight and cry and feel again, there was no going back. I hadn’t wanted our connection to end, to fade to a dying ember, an echo of a once glorious blaze. I still didn’t.
Now Zed was free, and he’d come to England, like it was so natural, so matter-of-fact. Signing with an English club, buying a flat. Extending an open invitation to move in. Zed lived
by his instinct, like he’d internalized some intrinsic life compass that directed his every move as autonomically as his brain kept his lungs breathing, his pumping heart steady.
I didn’t understand it one bit. But I liked it. Loved it actually, as I loved him. I just had no clue what I was doing. We’d obliterated the old formula—closed system, timed exposure, finite variables. I had no sense of the conditions, the context to optimize our success. I didn’t know what factors to throw out, or what environment would allow us to flourish while still preserving my own independence and sense of self. I didn’t play around in my lab, why would I in life? I needed a tutorial or something.
Chloe’s always been a sucker for a suspenseful steamy romance, ever since she managed to find the one saucy mystery series hiding in her high school’s prim little library. Nothing drives her crazier than a story that cranks up the heat, then closes the door on the reader’s face, so don’t read her books if you don’t want to know what actually happens when the lights fade to black…
When she’s not writing, Chloe’s busy reading books of all genres, rereading Harry Potter (which she can’t help but make her characters similarly obsessed over), and playing catch-up with her bad@$$ little girls. She’s also been known to scramble around the pitch for a pick-up soccer match and run along the river while dreaming up her next book.
He’s a Brute (Tough Love #1)
Author: Chloe Liese
Genre: Adult Romantic Suspense
Publication Date: May 6, 2019
Description:
One dark and handsome control-freak sports star meets one smarty pants bioengineer with hair to match her fiery temper. It’s an experiment straight out of sexual thermodynamics.
Every good scientist knows the second law of thermodynamics: the universe’s disorder, entropy, is always increasing. Professionally and personally speaking, Nairne’s familiar with the principle. After a streak of costly fame, now she’s set on saving the world, microscope in hand, and there’s no time for romance. Problem is, when a rude, despicably sexy Adonis shows up to run their board meeting, chemistry and its ensuing chaos become more than a formula—now they’re a burning hot reality.
Mafia prince. Professional footballer. Bad boy demeanor and a reputation for being as talented between the sheets as he is on the pitch. Rumors are the man’s an absolute brute. And he turns out to be just as demanding, controlling and vicious in person as he is on paper. The Law of Attraction’s proven true, as Nairne finds herself accepting Zed’s proposal: rough, wild stress release, more orgasms than she can count, and most importantly—no falling in love.
Agreement in place. End date secured.
No attachments. No forever.
What could possibly go wrong?
Book One in the Tough Love Series—an enemies to lovers, suspenseful romance, full of sexy Italians, bedroom negotiations, feisty heroines, and an ending that’ll both satisfy you and leave you ready for more!”
I took a few careful steps toward her because something about her made me uneasy. From the other end of the table, she’d been lovely. A pretty face with a pouty frown. By the time I was one third the way down the conference table toward her, she was devastating. I stopped because she was affecting me plenty from twelve feet away. Long and glossy dark auburn hair. Ivory skin. Fine bones, a smattering of freckles, and a warm glow to her cheeks. Her eyes were the real showstopper, though. They were an unfairly high chroma green, like blades of grass darkened after rain. They glittered with defiance and not a little contempt for me as she spoke.
“Understood, Mr. Salvatore. I look forward to showing you how misplaced your concern is. Until then, I’ll remember not to take such stingy optimism personally.”
No one spoke to me like that. I was Zedekiah Lazaro Salvatore, Deirdre O’Shea and Brando Salvatore’s firstborn. Boston fucking royalty, king of the soccer field, and prince of the city’s Italian criminal underworld. People kissed my ass and rolled out the red carpet. They bowed their heads and averted their eyes. Nobody gave me shit. Except Nairne MacGregor, apparently.
I dropped my grip on my jacket to hide the boner her sharp mouth gave me and feigned a smile. “You’ll excuse me.”
Waiting for her polite acknowledgment was out of the question. If I stuck around, she’d know exactly what her sass did to my body. I stormed out, knocked shoulders with someone and muttered an apology, then barreled toward the exit. I wasn’t normally clumsy—both of my professions were predicated on exceptional coordination and hyper-awareness—but I chalked it up to ninety-five percent of my blood gathering in my dick rather than my brain. Finally, I landed outside where I sucked in a breath and oriented myself.
Observing her during the meeting had been torture. Elbow on the table, jotting things down then setting her pen exactly parallel to the paper’s edge. Precise. Perfectionist. She’d listened while her wide green eyes darted between people as they spoke. Nairne was neurotically observant, cunning even. Watching her gears turning had turned me on. Big time.
She hadn’t spoken much, but when she had, I’d noted her vowels were off. She had an accent, and it wasn’t Southie. I couldn’t place it, and just like her hair that wouldn’t make up its mind between mahogany and rich red, her speech was another wrinkle in my morning. I’d never been this simultaneously annoyed and aroused.
Chloe’s always been a sucker for a suspenseful steamy romance, ever since she managed to find the one saucy mystery series hiding in her high school’s prim little library. Nothing drives her crazier than a story that cranks up the heat, then closes the door on the reader’s face, so don’t read her books if you don’t want to know what actually happens when the lights fade to black…
When she’s not writing, Chloe’s busy reading books of all genres, rereading Harry Potter (which she can’t help but make her characters similarly obsessed over), and playing catch-up with her bad@$$ little girls. She’s also been known to scramble around the pitch for a pick-up soccer match and run along the river while dreaming up her next book.
