Books published by Vesper Press

A brilliant, alpha architect. A smart, sultry apprentice. What could possibly go wrong? Patrick That hair. That damn hair. It was everywhere, always, and I wanted to tangle my fingers in those dark curls and pull. And that would be fine if she wasn't my apprentice. Andy An incredibly hot architect with the most expressive hazel eyes I ever encountered and entirely too much talent in and out of the bedroom wasn't part of my original plan. With Patrick Walsh leaving love notes in the form of bite marks all over my body, it seems my plan was undergoing some renovations.

My mother's New Year's resolution for me was simple: make a serious effort at putting myself out there and dating again, and do it for one full year. Or until I fell in love. Whichever came first. How hard could one year of swipes and matches and awkward first dates be? In a word: bad. In nine words: bad and also hilarious, demoralizing, exhausting, and ridiculously amusing.But the only thing worse than dating in the era of hookup apps and unsolicited dick pics is the absolute whole-life-flail of falling in love.

Underneath It AllOne hot architect. One naughty schoolteacher. One crazy night that changes everything.The Space BetweenA brilliant, alpha architect. A smart, sultry apprentice. What could possibly go wrong?Necessary RestorationsThey liked to call me names. Manwhore. Slut. Player. But I make wrong look so right…

Dear Jackson,I'm leaving you this note because I know you're very busy and I don't want to waste the town sheriff's time. Lord knows I've already wasted enough of it.Thank you for taking me home last night and...everything else. I made you a basket of wild blueberry muffins for your trouble. That seemed like the appropriate baked good for getting naked in your living room.I wasn't myself last night. I didn't mean to kiss you or fondle your backside or ask all those intimate questions. Thank you for pretending to enjoy it.It was very noble of you to sleep on the couch while I was starfished on your bed. I couldn't help but notice it's quite large. The bed, that is. I swear, I didn't notice anything else when I let myself out this morning. As you know, Talbott's Cove is a ridiculously small town and there's no chance we can avoid each other. Not that I'd want to avoid you, of course, but I'm not sure I can look at you without thinking of the forty different ways I made a fool of myself. Instead of avoidance, let's try to be friends. We'll forget all about last night…if that's what you want.Please burn this note after you read it--Annettep.s. I whipped up some cinnamon buns, too. Please enjoy them. I'm not sure why, but I couldn't get buns out of my mind today.

Take a vacation, they said. Get away from Silicon Valley's back-stabbing and power-grabbing. Recharge the innovative batteries. Unwind, then come back stronger than ever.Instead, I got lost at sea and fell in love with an anti-social lobsterman.There's one small issue:Owen Bartlett doesn't know who I am. Who I really am.~~I don't like people.I avoid small talk and socializing, and I kick my companions out of bed before the sun rises.No strings, no promises, no problems.Until Cole McClish's boat drifts into Talbott's Cove, and I bend all my rules for the sexy sailor.I don't know Cole's story or what he's running from, but one thing is certain:I'm not letting him run away from me.