Cupid is hot to trot!

One fateful weekend at a country estate, a beautiful, well-bred widow is caught between a rock and a very hard place when she must choose between two deliciously irresistible lovers...in Lacy Danes's seductive tale of courtship a la mode, "Torn Desires."

Long-distance lovers Edie and Ty are counting the hours until their scorching Valentine's Day reunion, each titillating the other with steamy letters describing their erotic journeys. And getting there is definitely half the fun in Megan Hart's wickedly wild "Get There."

Eternal damnation has its perks--especially for a voluptuous succubus who is about to receive a very special, very hot Valentine's Day "gift" from her demon lover...in Jackie Kessler's ode to paranormal passion, "Hell Is Where the Heart Is."

London's most irresistible rake has one week to prevent the woman he loves from marrying another. And he plans to do so by adeptly employing his most well-practiced arts--seduction...sensation...and erotic love--in Jess Michaels's sumptuous feast of juicy Regency romance, "By Valentine's Day."

I met him at the candy store. He turned around and smiled at me and I was surprised enough to smile back. This was not a children's candy store, mind you--this was the kind of place you went to buy expensive imported chocolate truffles for your boss's wife because you felt guilty for having sex with him when you were both at a conference in Milwaukee. Hypothetically speaking, of course.
I've been hit on plenty of times, mostly by men with little finesse who thought what was between their legs made up for what they lacked between their ears. Sometimes I went home with them anyway, just because it felt good to want and be wanted, even if it was mostly fake.
The problem with wanting is that it's like pouring water into a vase full of stones. It fills you up before you know it, leaving no room for anything else. I don't apologize for who I am or what I've done in--or out--of bed. I have my job, my house and my life, and for a long time I haven't wanted anything else.
Until Dan. Until now.

"This intriguing twist on the chosen child in an elite school trope confronts the reader with a number of unsettling questions that will linger long after the final page has turned." - Publishers Weekly Briella Blake has always been wicked smart. When she's invited to attend a special school for gifted students, she finally has the chance to focus on a project that begins to consume her - the ability to recreate and save copies of a person's entire set of memories. Her friendship with a raven that's as smart as she is leads to conflict with her mother Marian, who is no longer able to deny that there's something wrong with her child. FLAME TREE PRESS is the new fiction imprint of Flame Tree Publishing. Launching in 2018 the list brings together brilliant new authors and the more established; the award winners, and exciting, original voices.

Ever hear of wanderlust?

Every other weekend, Stella buys a ticket on the next flight out of town and leaves her life behind. Home is a place with too many memories, and departure is the sweetest possible distraction.

As soon as she arrives at her destination, Stella visits the airport bar. She orders a drink and waits for the right guy to come along. A bored businessman, a backpacker, a baggage handler just off shift. If he's into a hot, no-strings hookup, he's perfect. Each time is a thrilling escape from reality that gives the term layover a whole new meaning.

When Stella meets the enigmatic Matthew in Chicago one weekend, she hits some serious turbulence. Something about him tells her she's not the only one running from the past. The connection between them is explosive, and for the first time, one taste is not enough for Stella. But returning to find a gorgeous man waiting for her is the easy part--facing the reason she's there is a whole other matter....

"Hart's beautiful use of language and discerning eye toward human experience elevate the book to a poignant reflection on the deepest yearnings of the human heart and the seductive temptation of passion."
--Kirkus Book Reviews on Tear You Apart

Their passion will consume everything--and everyone-- in its path....
I'm on a train.
I don't know which stop I got on at; I only know the train is going fast and the world outside becomes a blur. I should get off, but I don't. The universe is playing a cosmic joke on me. Here I had my life--a good life with everything a woman could want--and suddenly, there is something more I didn't know I could have. A chance for me to be satisfied and content and maybe even on occasion deliriously, amazingly, exuberantly fulfilled.
So this is where I am, on a train that's out of control, and I am not just a passenger. I'm the one shoveling the furnace full of coal to keep it going fast and faster.
If I could make myself believe it all happened by chance and I couldn't help it, that I've been swept away, that it's not my fault, that it's fate...would that be easier? The truth is, I didn't know I was looking for this until I found Will, but I must've been, all this time. And now it is not random, it is not fate, it is not being swept away.
This is my choice. And I don't know how to stop.
Or even if I want to.

I pay strangers to sleep with me. I have my reasons...but they're not the ones you'd expect.
For starters, I'm a funeral director taking over my dad's business. Not exactly the kind of person you'd expect to fork over cash for the intimacy and urgency only skin-to-skin contact can create. Looking at me, you wouldn't have a clue I carry this little secret so close it creases up like the folds of a fan. Tight. Personal. Ready to unravel in the heat of the moment.
Unsurprisingly, my line of work brings me face-to-face with loss. So I decided long ago that paying for sex would be one of the best (and most arousing) ways to save myself from the one thing that would eventually cut far too deep.
But Sam was a mistake. Literally. I signed on to "pick up" a stranger at a bar, but took Sam home instead. And now that I've felt his heat, his sweat and everything else, can I really go back to impersonal?
Let's just hope he never finds out about my other life....

don't think don't question just do
The anonymous note wasn't for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in the habit of reading other people's mail, but it was just a piece of paper with a few lines scrawled on it, clearly meant for the apartment upstairs. It looked so innocent, but decidedly-"deliciously"-it was not.
Before replacing the note-and the ones that followed-in its rightful slot, I devoured its contents: suggestions, instructions, commands. Each was more daring, more intricate and more arousing than the last...and I followed them all to the letter.
Before the notes, if a man had told me what to do, I'd have told him where to go. But submission is an art, and there's something oddly freeing about doing someone's bidding...especially when it feels so very, very good. But I find that the more I surrender, the more powerful I feel-so it's time to switch up roles.
We play by my rules now.
"Realistic characters, natural dialogue, beautiful erotic and romantic trysts, and thought-provoking insights on life, death and love all exemplify Megan Hart's signature style of erotic fiction." -BookFizz

My husband, James. The house on the lake. Our perfect life. And then Alex came to visit. The first time I saw my husband's best friend, I didn't like him. Didn't like how James changed when he was around, didn't like how his penetrating eyes followed me everywhere. But that didn't stop me from wanting him. And, surprisingly, James didn't seem to mind.
It was meant to be fun. Something the three of us shared for those hot summer weeks Alex stayed with us. Nobody was supposed to fall in or out of love. I didn't need another man, not even one who oozed sex like honey and knew all the secrets I didn't know, the secrets my husband hadn't shared. After all, we had a perfect life. And I loved my husband.
But I wasn't the only one.

Twenty years ago she had her whole life spread out before her. She was Bess Walsh, a freshly scrubbed middle-class student ready to conquer the design world. And she was taken. Absolutely and completely. But not by Andy, her well-groomed, intellectual boyfriend who hinted more than once about a ring. No--during that hot summer as a waitress and living on the beach, she met Nick, the local bad boy. He was, to put it mildly, not someone she could take home to Daddy. Instead, Nick became her dirty little secret--a fervent sexual accomplice who knew how to ignite an all-consuming obsession she'd had no idea she carried deep within her. Bess had always wondered what happened to Nick after that summer, after their promise to meet again. And now, back at the beach house and taking a break from responsibility, from marriage, from life, she discovers his heartbreaking fate--and why he never came back for her. Suddenly Nick's name is on her lips...his hands on her thighs...dark hair and eyes called back from the swirling gray of purgatory's depths. Dead, alive, or something in between, they can't stop their hunger. She wouldn't dare.

"This month my name is Mary."
My name is different every month--Brandy, Honey, Amy...sometimes Joe doesn't even bother to ask--but he never fails to arouse me with his body, his mouth, his touch, no matter what I'm called or where he picks me up. The sex is always amazing, always leaves me itching for more in those long weeks until I see him again.
My real name is Sadie, and once a month over lunch Joe tells me about his latest conquest. But what Joe doesn't know is that in my mind, I'm the star of every X-rated one-night stand he has revealed to me, or that I'm practically obsessed with our imaginary sex life. I know it's wrong. I know my husband wouldn't understand. But I can't stop. Not yet.

Sex is best when it's one-on-one...plus one.
Four of erotic fiction's most talented authors carry readers away with all-new tales of ecstasy that prove that the most delectable things in life come in threes.