Plaything Ultimate Billionaire Romance Bundle

• Book 1: Easy Come

At Plaything, your pleasure is our business.

This month’s box: Easy Come, Easy O

"I wanted to teach this reporter a lesson in more ways than one."

Trey Armstrong is a self-made millionaire and notorious playboy who can only be described as all man. He prides himself on living up to his player reputation. That is until one incredible woman crosses the threshold into his life. Has Trey finally met his match?

"Trey wasn't just any man, he was a man who made a business out of pleasure, and he was giving that pleasure to me good."

When Georgie Dempsey is assigned to write an article on Plaything—the multi-million dollar pleasure subscription service, she has no idea that she’ll end up being the star. The brainy, understatedly sexy journalist sets off on a journey of sexual self-discovery led by none other than the master himself, Trey Armstrong.

What readers are saying:

"Sexy and sultry, silly and scintillating, perfectly wonderful characters in a story that just flowed from the first page, I am hooked." ~Amazon reviewer

• Book 2: Sweet Spot

At Plaything, your pleasure is our business.
This month’s box: Sweet Spot



Chase England:
I was incurable when it came to women. I loved them, everything about them, the way they laughed, the way they walked, the way they felt in my arms. But this woman in particular had piqued my interest and not just because she was pretty and smart and funny . . . and a virgin. Well OK that might have played a big part. But I still hadn't expected my playboy heart to be so easily tamed.

Macy Pennington:
As a newly single woman, I'd gained freedom, independence and a good dose of happiness. I was determined to make a go of things all on my own, with no one and, especially no man, to mess up my life. That was until he showed up. In the arms of the notorious playboy, Chase England, my inexperience was quickly erased by his experience, and I discovered all the pleasures I'd been missing.

What readers are saying:

 "This book hit a big Sweet Spot...Just Fabulous." ~Amazon Reviewer

• Book 3: In a Bind

At Plaything, your pleasure is our business.
This month’s box: In a Bind

Zane Bostwick:
"I could have you purring softly one minute and pleading with me to f*ck you the next, baby. You are a talented little prick tease. But you are punching above your weight."

It was a dangerous game to play with the daughter of our biggest investor, and I was determined to show Raini that she had been outmatched in whatever teasing game we'd been playing. I was the one with the blindfold and ties but the way her body reacted to my kisses and touch had me wondering if I was in charge or if she was the one controlling me just by being so damn sexy. She really had played me, only the stakes in the game were much higher than I'd expected.

Raini Bonneville:
We'd fallen into a competition of sorts, a game where each player was working hard to shock the other into defeat. I was struggling to figure out my opponent, which only made the challenge that much more intriguing. I'd teased the man to distraction and now he was taking his revenge. I was ready for it. He might just be my type, or he might just be the last thing I needed.

What readers are saying:

"Tess Oliver has done it again, she has a created one of my favorite female leads Raini, she is feisty, sexy, loves playing games and does what she wants."  ~Amazon Reviewer

• Book 4: Role Play

At Plaything, your pleasure is our business.
This month’s box: Role Play

Aidan Swift:
It might have been a part of that same unexplained possessive, protectiveness I'd felt about her, but I wanted badly to master her body.

When I moved into a temporary apartment, I never expected a neighbor like her. She's working hard to make it on the big screen, but I have a new role for her to play. I'm the director and she's my sweet, innocent actress who needs to be directed. And interestingly enough, the first scene starts with the leading lady stripping naked. And action.

Jane Briggs:
You've awakened physical stirrings in me that I thought were gone, including some that I never knew I had. Like that magic spot. Please, Aidan, find that magic spot again.

All it took was my intimidating but incredibly handsome neighbor barreling through my front door, and my whole life changed. It seemed Lady Luck was finally on my side, and success and passionate love were just around the corner. Then everything fell apart just like I knew it would.

What readers are saying:

"The characters are amazing and sexy plus the story line is wonderful written. Great book, don't miss out on this series."  ~Amazon Reviewer

• Book 5: Midnight Oil

At Plaything, your pleasure is our business.
This month’s box: Midnight Oil

Quinn Armstrong:

I wanted her badly, so badly that I was sure I wouldn't think straight, and I wanted her all to myself.

She was that elusive woman. The one who was taken but still ingrained in my mind. I had a playboy reputation—for good reason—but I'd break all the rules for her. Suzy Q was worth it. She was worth it all.

Now, I had my chance. She'd come home with me, and I had big plans. We were definitely going to burn the midnight oil.

Suzy Riley:
I would be lying if I didn't admit to finding myself in the occasional erotic daydream with Quinn. The man oozed sexual magnetism.

After Tate's betrayal, the last thing I needed in my already screwed up life was Quinn Armstrong. The man was exceptionally handsome, built like a superhero and the type of guy who drew all the energy in a room. I knew who he was—a playboy extraordinaire—but I wanted just one night. I wanted to live out my fantasy of being Quinn's for a single night. But then reality hit me, and I knew the Red Knight was the last thing I needed. Or was he the thing I needed most?

What readers are saying:

"I absolutely loved Midnight Oil (Plaything #5), and Quinn (swoon) has hit the top of my BBF list." ~Amazon Reviewer

Excerpt from Easy Come

Chapter 5: Georgie

I'd been invited to lunch, and before I had time to breathe my response, I was being swept to a local restaurant in a navy blue Tesla. Trey wasn't your typical high power executive. He was charming, direct and, oddly enough, seemed pretty down to earth.

Trey walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for me. "Hope you like comfort food."

I climbed out. "Well, I like comfort and I like food, so it works for me." He was much taller than I realized, and now that I was walking next to him, I noticed that he smelled nice too. Guess that wasn't a surprise. What was a surprise was finding out just how nicely the company was run. Something told me I could bug the place or hide in corners for a week and never find fodder for a damaging article. Meredith was going to be pissed, but I wasn't going to make something up and risk my credentials as a journalist just to feed her carnivorous appetite. Trey had mentioned that he had an idea for a story, but I just couldn't figure out how that was possible. 

We walked inside and attracted more than just a little bit of attention from the other diners, most of whom looked retired or on their way through town on a road trip. There was no ritzy, white linen and crystal water glasses at the end of our quick drive through the city, but rather, a mom and pop style restaurant, complete with corny decor and laminate tables. 

The hostess, a stout woman with red apple cheeks and a mop of bleached blond hair waved from behind the register. "Hello, Trey, honey, just take any seat."

Trey placed his hand behind my elbow. It was a light touch, but I could feel the heat of his fingers through my blouse. We walked to a booth at the back and a young man, not more than twenty, dropped menus in front of us. 

"I'm Kyle, and I'll be your server. Can I get you started with something to drink?"

We ordered iced teas and Kyle lumbered off, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but serving food in a mom and pop restaurant. 

Trey's long legs stretched out beneath the table. His toe touched my foot. I wasn't completely sure it was accidental. The way his intense gaze seemed to be assessing me made me fidget with the place setting. The knife fell on the floor, producing enough clamor to grab everyone's attention for a second before they returned to their meals and conversations. Trey leaned down to pick up the knife and took his time about it.

His head popped up, and he placed the knife on the corner of the table. "Nice legs." 

The comment caused me to lower my hands and yank down the hem of my skirt, even though it was already plenty long enough and no one could see my legs through the table. My defensive response made him smile. It was a great smile. Of course. 

I leaned forward and put my elbow on the table and then remembered my mom's admonishment to never put my elbow on the dinner table and pulled it off. I rested my hands on my lap to avoid pushing another piece of silverware to the floor. "Do you eat here often?" 

"When I feel like a home cooked meal. Sometimes the high brow restaurants with their tiny, artsy portions just don't cut it. I save those lunches for—"

"Important people and not frazzled reporters looking for tabloid fodder?" My nerves were settling, and I was feeling a bit more myself. 

"No not at all. I leave snooty restaurants for snooty people. A lot of people assume that I was always rich and that the guys and I just used a chunk of our trust funds to start a company. But that's not the case." He paused as Kyle lowered the teas in front of us. I ordered a quiche and Trey ordered a burger.

"Up until just two years ago, Zane, Chase and I were sharing a crummy two room apartment and Aidan was living in his sister's garage."

I sipped some tea. "Please continue. I'm far more interested in hearing about your success story than how you run the company. In fact, before Meredith took her father's place at the magazine, I wrote human interest stories." 

"I know. I did some quick research on you before Chase walked you into my office. Impressive resume. I read that you won some prestigious journalism awards."

My face dropped to hide the blush.

"It's a shame the magazine is changing its format. They are wasting your talent."

I was never good at accepting compliments, and when they were doubled up, it was extra hard. "You were telling me about starting the company," I interjected quickly for a topic change. 

"The four of us grew up together in a crummy neighborhood where there were more empty strip malls than open businesses. Our first money making venture was starting a garage band, which failed after we realized that none of us were musical. Each one of us had our family problems. I grew up with a single mom, and I had to help take care of my younger brother, Quinn. My dad left when I was three so I barely knew him. My mom had to work two jobs to keep shoes on our feet. And at the rate the two of us grew, that wasn't easy. After high school, the guys and I all parted ways, trying to find our paths in life. Only those paths brought us all back together at a friend's wedding. We were all still looking for our futures. The one thing we all had in common was we loved women and sex. Seems like a shallow reason to start a business, but once the ideas started flowing, the thing took off like a rocket. Turned out a lot of other people had the same thing in common with us." 

A group of young women came in, laughing and texting and tossing back long, shiny hair. Kyle practically ran across the room to give them menus. 

"You mentioned you had a story idea? Something that would benefit all parties? Is it the rags to riches plotline? I love the idea, but I don't think Meredith will bite. And I use the term bite freely when it comes to that woman."

"I agree. From what Chase has told me about her, I don't think she'll bite either. I have another idea, but you need to keep an open mind."

"I always have an open mind." I pulled the notebook out of my bag. 

"Just listen first. You won't need notes because this story is going to be about you."

"That's funny."

"I'm not joking." Trey pushed his sleeves back farther, exposing a circle of barbed wire tattooed around his arm. It might have looked barbaric on someone else, but on him, it just looked . . . good. "Let's start with your sex life."

"And we're done here." I slid out of the booth. His fingers wrapped around my arm, there was a firmness to his grasp that should have worried me. Instead, it sent an unexpected surge of heat through me. 

"Sit and hear me out. Then, if you hate the idea you can just walk away."

I sat back down. "Fine."

Trey titled his head and looked at me, waiting for me to answer his question. 

I fidgeted with the collar on my blouse and noticed, for the hundredth time since I’d met the man, that his eyes were focused on the top button. "At the moment, my sex life is—well, it's non-existent. I was seeing someone for a few years, but we broke up."

"Why is that?" 

"Peanut butter sandwiches."

His smooth brow arched up. "Peanut butter sandwiches?"

"Yes. When I was ten, my mom got a job working nights, so she put my older sister, Jean, in charge of making our school lunches. Well, Jean was sixteen, so a big chunk of her morning was taken up with the flat iron and mascara bottle. The only thing she had time for was to slap peanut butter on a piece of bread. For that entire school year, I trudged to the cafeteria with my crappy peanut butter sandwich. That's what it felt like with Mark, a peanut butter sandwich for lunch every damn day."

"Perfect."

"Glad you think so, but I still can't look at a jar of peanut butter."

Trey's laugh was the kind that could warm you on a cold night or cheer you up after a bad day. "No, I mean perfect for the story. Let me ask you something—Georgie. If you could have a superpower what would it be?"

I had no idea where the heck the conversation was heading. "Flying, that would be nice. Then I could just fly over the traffic on the freeway."

"So, if you had that superpower, you would use it?"

"Of course."

"Then why don't you use the superpower you already have?"

I stopped halfway on sipping my tea. "I can't fly."

"That's not the superpower I'm talking about."

Kyle halted the strange conversation with our food. He put the food in front of us and walked away before I could ask for some pepper. I tried to get his attention, but he had sped off too fast back in the direction of the crowded, giggling girl table. I waved at him several times as he crossed the dining area, but he never looked my direction. 

"Take off those glasses," Trey said plainly.

"Excuse me? I don't have x-ray vision. I need them to see."

"Just trust me."

"Sure but I just need some pepper." I waved my arm to get Kyle's attention. It seemed the kid walked around with invisible blinders on. 

"Georgie," Trey said more forcefully. "Take off those big glasses. And unbutton the top button on that blouse." 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

"Just do it." His ordering me around should have riled me, but he managed to do it with enough charisma that I found myself following his directions.

I took off my glasses and then, with much more hesitation, I discreetly reached up and undid the top button. My blouse was already stretched tight across my breasts, breasts that I'd spent my entire teen years trying to diminish in size. But to no avail. It seemed I was still guilty of trying to restrain them. The blouse parted, exposing my cleavage. I was sure I heard a low groan come from Trey's side of the table, but I eventually dismissed the notion as just the clamor in the restaurant. 

Before I could rest my back against the seat, Kyle swept across the room and nearly fell over our table as he asked if I needed something. I knew his eyes were riveted to my cleavage, but I ignored it as a typical school boy reaction. "Pepper please."

He raced off enthusiastically.

Trey poured ketchup on his plate and didn't look up as he spoke. Damn, he had long lashes. "You're welcome."

"For what?"

"For showing you how to use your superpower to get pepper for your quiche."

Kyle returned with an actual pepper grinder. Like a waiter in a fine restaurant, he stood over me with his pepper. "Just tell me when." 

Trey was completely entertained as he watched. 

I put up my hand. "That's good. Thank you, Kyle." I smiled sweetly at him. He stumbled backwards a few steps, the pepper grinder gripped tightly in his fingers. 

I shot an annoyed eyebrow twist at my lunch mate. "If you think having big breasts is a superpower, then you should try being a painfully shy thirteen-year-old running the mile in P.E. and having the entire boys' soccer team stop their game to watch."

"I'm not talking about your breasts." He stopped to admire my cleavage for a second. "Although, they are spectacular. I'm talking about you, all of you. You are beautiful and smart, but it seems you're trying hard to just be smart. The glasses, the top button, the hair up like my mom's Aunt Terry."

"You, sir, are an asshole." I put down my fork, my appetite for quiche suddenly diminished. I pulled out my phone to call for an Uber ride back to the Plaything parking lot.

"I won't argue with that." Trey reached across and placed his hand gently on my arm. It should have irritated me, but somehow, his touch felt genuinely kind. My mind momentarily drifted to the idea of that same hand smoothing over my skin. 

"Wait, Georgie. I'm not trying to be an asshole. I guess I'm not doing this right. Eat your quiche and listen to my story pitch. Then I'll drive you back to your car."

I picked up the fork but didn't do much more than pick at the quiche. I listened fully but pretended that I was only paying half-hearted attention. 

"I think you should write a personal journal on finding your sexual self. Your sexuality can empower you, once you find it."

"Maybe I don't have a sexual self."

His short laugh seemed to have been unplanned, surprising even himself. "Georgie, when you walked into my office this morning, even in your demure skirt and blouse and librarian hairstyle, sexuality was pulsing off of you in waves. You've got it. And if you couple that with those extreme brains, you will be unstoppable. Just like a superhero."

"And just how do you know I haven't already found this magical sexual self?"

"Peanut butter sandwiches?"

"Yes, but that was just because . . ." I thought about the dreary sex life I had with Mark and how many headaches I had to fake just to avoid it. 

"Do you have an orgasm every time you have sex?"

I dropped the fork again and sat back with astonishment.

"Come on, Georgie, you're a highly educated, modern woman. It's all right to talk out loud about this."

"Yes, maybe with my best friend, or my—no, I don't even do that."

He tilted his head, waiting for an answer. He was persistent, and damn, if he didn't have the most gorgeous face to go with that persistence. 

"No, not all the time. I mean it depends on my mood, and how skilled the partner is and the time of day, and what I ate for lunch or if I had a drink with dinner . . . Ah shit. All right, my sexual self might need a little enlightenment, but how do you suppose to do that?" My face warmed some. "I'm not sleeping with you just to write a story." Of course, I'd been sort of undressing the man in my mind since I'd walked into the office, and I'd already imagined his hands on me more than once. But I was still not making that kind of sacrifice for my job. Although, sacrifice might be a strong word because the man was rich and gorgeous and ridiculously appealing. 

"That's not what I'm proposing."

My shoulders dropped with a good measure of unplanned disappointment. Trey's mouth tilted slightly at the corner, assuring me he noticed my sudden drop in posture. 

"But I am going to help you with this. And to start, I'll be sending you home with this month's box of, as you noted, pleasure goodies."

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