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About Vi Keeland
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-six languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
Stop by and meet Vi in her private reader group on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/groups/ViKeelandFanGroup/
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The first time I met Max Yearwood was on a blind date.
Max was insanely gorgeous, funny, and our chemistry was off the charts. He also had the biggest dimples I’d ever laid eyes on.
Exactly what I needed after my breakup.
Or so I thought…
Until my real date arrived.
Turned out, Max wasn’t who I was there to meet. He only pretended to be until my real date showed up.
To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.
Before he left, he slipped me a ticket to a hockey game a few blocks away, in case things didn’t work out on my actual date.
I tossed the ticket into my purse and went about trying to enjoy the man I was supposed to meet.
But my real blind date and I had no connection.
So on my way home, I decided to take a chance and stop by the game.
When I arrived, the seat next to me was empty.
Disappointed again, I decided to leave at the end of the period.
Just before the buzzer, one of the teams scored, and the entire arena went crazy.
A player’s face flashed up on the Jumbotron. He was wearing a helmet, but I froze when he smiled.
You guessed it: Dimples.
Apparently, my fake blind date hadn’t invited me to watch hockey with him, he’d invited me to watch him play.
And so began my adventure with Max Yearwood.
He was everything I needed at the time—fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months since he’d signed with a new team three-thousand miles away.
Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right?
Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.
Terminated for inappropriate behavior.
I couldn’t believe the letter in my hands.
Nine years. Nine damn years I’d worked my butt off for one of the largest companies in America, and I was fired with a form letter when I returned home from a week in Aruba.
All because of a video taken when I was on vacation with my friends—a private video made on my private time. Or so I thought…
Pissed off, I cracked open a bottle of wine and wrote my own letter to the gazillionaire CEO telling him what I thought of his company and its practices.
I didn’t think he’d actually respond.
I certainly never thought I’d suddenly become pen pals with the rich jerk.
Eventually, he realized I’d been wronged and made sure I got my job back.
Only…it wasn’t the only thing Grant Lexington wanted to do for me.
But there was no way I was getting involved with my boss’s boss’s boss. Even if he was ridiculously gorgeous, confident, and charming.
It would be completely wrong, inappropriate even.
Sort of like the video that got me into trouble to begin with.
Two wrongs don’t make a right.
But sometimes it’s twice as fun.
#1 Apple Books Bestseller
Wall Street Journal Bestseller
USA Today Bestseller
A new, sexy standalone from #1 New York Times Bestseller, Vi Keeland.
Before I even met Donovan Decker, I knew his shoe size.
You see, I'd gone away for a few days, and in my haste to get out of the airport, I'd grabbed the wrong suitcase.
After checking out the expensive footwear and tailored clothes, I dialed the number on the luggage tag hoping maybe Mister Big Spender might have my bag.
A deep, velvety voice answered, and as luck would have it, he had my suitcase, too.
Donovan and I met at a coffee shop to do the exchange.
Turned out, it wasn't just his voice that was sexy. The man holding my luggage was absolutely gorgeous, and we had an immediate spark.
He got me to admit that I'd snooped in his bag and then convinced me to make it up to him by letting him buy me coffee.
Coffee led to dinner, dinner led to dessert, and dessert led to spending an entire weekend together. Donovan wasn't just handsome with a panty-dropping voice. He was also funny, smart, and surprisingly down to earth for a man who wore seven-hundred-dollar shoes.
Did I mention he also did my laundry while I slept? Definitely too good to be true.
So what did I do to repay him for his kindness?
I waited until he was in the shower, then ghosted him.
My life was too complicated for such a great guy.
In the months that passed, I thought about Donovan often.
But New York City had eight-million people, so what were the chances I'd run into him?
Then again, what were the chances I'd run into him a year later...when I'd just started dating his boss?
#1 Apple Books Bestseller
Washington Post Bestseller
USA Today Bestseller
Amazon Charts Bestseller
A new, sexy standalone from #1 New York Times Bestseller, Vi Keeland.
The first time I met Hudson Rothschild was at a wedding. I'd received an unexpected invitation to one of the swankiest venues in the city.
Hudson was a groomsman and quite possibly the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes on. He asked me to dance, and our chemistry was off the charts.
I knew it wasn't a good idea to get involved with him, considering the wedding I was at. But our connection was intense, and I was having a great time.
Though the fun came to a screeching halt when Hudson figured out I wasn't who I'd said I was. You see, that unexpected invitation I received? Well, it hadn't actually been addressed to me--it was sent to my ex-roommate who'd bounced a check for two months' rent and moved out in the middle of the night. I figured she owed me an expensive night out, but I guess, technically, I was crashing the wedding.
Once caught, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. As I bolted for the door, I might've plucked a few bottles of expensive champagne off the tables I passed, all while the gorgeous, angry groomsman was hot on my tail.
Outside, I jumped into a taxi. My heart ricocheted against my ribs as we drove down the block--but at least I'd escaped unscathed.
Or so I thought.
Until I realized I'd left my cell phone behind at the table.
Take one guess who found it?
This is the crazy story of how Hudson Rothschild and I met. But trust me, it's only the tip of the iceberg.
It all started with a bet.
When my young son inherited half of his great grandfather’s historic inn, I decided to move us both to the place where I grew up.
Notice I said half of the Inn. The other half now belonged to Levi Miller, the famous quarterback who had other ideas about what we should do with the property.
We won’t mention that I accidentally injured him during our first meeting, causing him to get eight stitches.
You could say we got off on the wrong foot.
We bickered a lot as we both moved into the property while we figured things out.
He wanted to unload the rundown place which, admittedly, needed a lot of work.
I wanted to restore The Palm Inn to its original beauty and re-open it as a bed and breakfast.
We couldn’t agree on anything. So Levi made me a proposal. One he thought I would surely lose. If I could sell out the place by the time he had to leave for training at the end of summer, he would back off and let me run it.
But in the weeks that followed, we got more than we bargained for while we were living under the same roof.
Levi and I got closer, and before I knew it, my nightly fantasies about the brawny Adonis became a reality. Not to mention, he was so great with my son.
We were in over our heads in more ways than one.
Because not only was he the last man on Earth I should be falling for because of our deal, but Levi was also my ex’s older brother.
And now the inn was the least of my problems.
My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards.
We met at a wedding—him sitting on the groom’s side, me sitting on the bride’s. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction.
I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me.
We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.
I thought about him often, but after my last relationship, I’d sworn off of charming, cocky, gorgeous-as-sin men. A year later, Hunter and I met again at the birth of our friends’ baby. Our attraction hadn't dulled one bit. After a whirlwind trip, he demanded a real phone number this time. So I left him with my mother’s—she could scare away any man with her talks of babies and marriage—and flew back home.
I’d thought it was funny, until the following week when he rang the bell at Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner. The crazy, gorgeous man had won over my mother and taken an eight-week assignment in my city. He proposed we spend that time screwing each other out of our systems.
Eight weeks of mind-blowing sex with no strings attached? What did I have to lose?
Nothing, I thought.
It’s just sex, not love.
But you know what they say about the best laid plans…
The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar.
Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born.
Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day—when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston's grandfather.
The two men spent years fighting over Grace Copeland, who also happened to be their third business partner. But in the end, neither man could steal half of her heart away from the other.
Eventually, they all went their separate ways. Our grandfathers married other women, and the two men became one of the biggest business rivals in history.
Our fathers continued the family tradition of feuding. And then Weston and I did, too.
For the most part, we kept as much distance as possible.
Until the day the woman who started the feud died—and unexpectedly left one of the most valuable hotels in the world to our grandfathers to share.
Now I’m stuck in a hotel with the man I was born to hate, trying to unravel the mess our families inherited.
As usual, it didn’t take long for us to be at each other’s throats.
Weston Lockwood was everything I hated: tall, smart, cocky, and too gorgeous for his own good. We were fire and ice.
But that shouldn’t be an issue. Our families were used to being at war. There was just one minor problem, though. Every time Weston and I fought, we somehow wound up in bed.
The first time I met Chase Parker, I didn't exactly make a good impression.
I was hiding in the bathroom hallway of a restaurant, leaving a message for my best friend to save me from my awful date.
He overheard and told me I was a bitch, then proceeded to offer me some dating advice.
So I told him to mind his own damn business―his own tall, gorgeous, full-of-himself damn business―and went back to my miserable date.
When he walked by my table, he smirked, and I watched his arrogant, sexy ass walk back to his date.
I couldn't help but sneak hidden glances at the condescending jerk on the other side of the room. Of course, he caught me on more than one occasion, and winked.
When the gorgeous stranger and his equally hot date suddenly appeared at our table, I thought he was going to rat me out.
But instead, he pretended we knew each other and joined us―telling elaborate, embarrassing stories about our fake childhood.
My date suddenly went from boring to bizarrely exciting.
When it was over and we parted ways, I thought about him more than I would ever admit, even though I knew I'd never see him again.
I mean, what were the chances I'd run into him again in a city with eight million people?Then again...
What were the chances a month later he'd wind up being my new sexy boss?
From #1 New York Times Bestseller Vi Keeland, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.
Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning.
I was late for the first day at my new job--a job I'd now have to compete for even though I'd already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger.
While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons.
She'd ticketed a long line of cars--except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine.
Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine. Chances were, the owner would pay it and be none the wiser.
Except, I accidentally broke the windshield wiper while slipping the ticket onto the car's window.
Seriously, my day couldn't get any worse.
Things started to perk up when I ran into a gorgeous man in the elevator. We had one of those brief moments that only happened in movies.
You know the deal...your body lights up, fireworks go off, and the air around you crackles with electricity.
His heated stare left me flushed when I stepped off the elevator.
Maybe things here wouldn't be so bad after all.
Or so I thought.
Until I walked into my new boss's office and met my competition.
The gorgeous man from the elevator was now my nemesis. His heated stare wasn't because of any mutual attraction. It was because he'd seen me vandalize his car. And now he couldn't wait to annihilate his rival.
There's a fine line between love and hate--and we shouldn't cross it.
We shouldn't--but straddling that line could be so much fun.
From New York Times & USA Today Bestseller, Vi Keeland, comes a sexy new standalone novel.
The first time I met Brody Easton was in the men's locker room.
The famed quarterback decided to bare all.
And by all, I don't mean he told me any of his secrets.
No. The arrogant ass decided to drop his towel, just as I asked the first question. On camera.
The Super Bowl MVP quickly adopted a new hobby--screwing with me.
When I pushed back, he shifted from wanting to screw with me, to wanting to screw me.
But I don't date players.
And it's not because I'm one of the few women working in the world of professional football.
I'd date an athlete.
It's the other kind of player I don't date.
You know the type. Good looking, strong, cocky, always looking to get laid.
Brody Easton was the ultimate player.
Every woman wanted to be the one to change him.
But the truth was, all he needed was a girl worth changing for.
Turned out, I was that girl.
Let's face it. It never is.
There's a story between once upon a time and happily ever after...
And this one is ours.
Author's note - The Baller is a full-length standalone novel. Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.