Today we have the series relaunch of BANGER by Donya Lynne writing as Dick Hertz! Check it out and grab your copy today!!
About Banger!She wants an easy summer fling. He wants more. And he won’t stop until he gets it.
CEO, Greyson James, has a BIG problem. Below the waist, he’s more man than most women can take, which has destroyed his sex life. Just once, he would like to meet a woman who doesn’t get a load of his . . . well, load . . . and run the other direction.
Katherine Clayton, divorcée and single mother of two, just sent her kids to California to spend summer vacation with their father, which means it’s time for her annual summer fling. Maybe this year she’ll find a man who can give her what she needs. And, after having two kids, what she needs is a lot of man. If she can’t find him this year, she’ll dedicate the rest of her life to her children and celibacy, because she can’t take any more bedroom disappointments.
When Greyson and Katherine spot each other inside Denver’s trendiest nightclub, the chemistry that erupts between them is undeniable, and they soon learn that each has what the other needs. But after one night of intense passion, neither is prepared for the wicked ride fate has in store for them.
As the Banger Serialized Novel unfolds, Greyson and Katherine will wrestle with their feelings for each another, long-held family secrets will be revealed, and scandals neither could have imagined will rock them to the core.
Read Greyson and Katherine’s entire story in this collection of all seven previously published novellas to find out if what they’ve found in each other will be enough for happily ever after, or if one summer fling is all they’ll share?
This collection includes all seven novellas that were previously published separately under the title, Banger (formerly Size Matters). A short summary for each part follows:
Part 1 - Well-endowed Greyson James meets pleasure-seeking Katherine Clayton. She thinks he’s a temporary summer fling. He wants something more.
Part 2 - When Katherine learns Greyson wants to buy her company, sparks fly, and she ends their affair. But Greyson is determined to win her back.
Part 3 - Katherine resists Greyson’s steady attempts to woo her back into his bed, but she can only hold out so long when her desire for him continues to grow.
Part 4 - Greyson takes Katherine on a weekend getaway that leads to a surprising confession—and an unexpected realization.
Part 5 - When Katherine and Greyson attend their friends’ wedding, she’s not prepared for her jealous reaction when she sees him with another woman. And neither is he.
Part 6 - Katherine was finally ready to give Greyson her heart, but a tragic secret from his past, as well as new developments in her family obligations, have threatened everything.
Part 7 - If Greyson is going to win Katherine back, he’s going to have to pull out all the stops. But all the stops might not be enough to overcome the surprises fate still has in store for them.
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Exclusive Excerpt:I tear my gaze away from the tall glass of cool water on the balcony who’s been eye-fucking me for the last minute and nudge Jess.
“I think I found him.”
“Who?” She glances around then meets my gaze. “Oh!” Her eyes go wide, and her mouth drops open. “You mean . . . Mr. Manhunt?”
“The balcony.” I bob my head in that direction. “Grey shirt. Dark-brown hair. The one with a jawline that can cut glass.” Of all the men I’ve chosen for my summer romances, this guy is the hottest yet. I only hope he’s as willing as he seems to be, because I’d like to at least see if he excels over the competition in other ways. Namely, is he packing, or isn’t he?
Jess frowns as she glances up to the balcony. “Where? I don’t see—” Her gaze drops and she’s staring over my shoulder. “Oh . . .”
A shiver races down my back, and I know by the look on her face that he’s standing right behind me.
“Excuse me.” His voice is deep and manly, and my stomach drops then buoys back up against my diaphragm.
If just his voice can elicit that response, I can only imagine what the rest of him can do to me. Or perhaps I’m merely hopeful. I have to remind myself that for all the potential of my last four summer flings, none lived up to the hype.
I turn, and he’s more striking up close than he was on the balcony. Taller, too.
Sometimes men are more attractive from far away, but when you see them up close, not so much. When they’re right in front of you, it’s easier to see the imperfections in their skin or that they don’t take the best care of their teeth. Or maybe they have an off-putting scent, whether natural or cologne.
With this guy, there are no imperfections. His teeth are straight and white, and his healthy, weathered skin tells me he spends a lot of time outdoors. Based on the width of his shoulders and his tapered waist, I’d say the time he spends outdoors is spent doing he-man activities such as chopping through ten-foot wide tree trunks with an ax and throwing boulders. He’s obviously chiseled under his grey button-up and black slacks. Are those Armani? As for the way he smells, I feel like I’ve stepped into a crisp, clean shower in a rainforest. I just want to run my nose up the side of his neck, inhaling like a coke addict.
His smile widens as his hazel, grey-blue eyes narrow slightly, and I realize I’m staring.
“I was hoping I could buy you a drink,” he says.
It’s simple as far as pickup lines go. Simple and polite. I like polite. It means he’s not a jerk. Or at least not a total jerk. Or maybe he’s just a smooth operator, but I don’t think so. There’s a gentle kindness in his eyes, as if he’s been rejected one too many times and, while he’s not willing to give up, he’s more cautious now about the women he approaches. Whatever the reason, I feel honored that he’s chosen to approach me.
My turquoise-colored cocktail is almost empty, so I smile and place the glass on the polished bar. “Sure, okay.”
“And your friend?” He gestures invitingly toward Jess as he flags down the bartender. “What are you two drinking?”
Jess squeezes up beside me. “It’s called a Caribbean Mist.”
The bartender stops in front of us and leans in.
“Two Caribbean Mists and another scotch and soda please.” He sets his empty glass on the bar.
The bartender nods brusquely and runs off to fix our drinks.
“My name’s Grey,” he says, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.
“Grey? Really?” I can’t help smiling. “Like the name of a certain character from a certain book that shall remain nameless?”
He rolls his eyes impishly, and his cheeks flush. “I’ve never read that book, so I barely know what it’s about, just what I’ve heard through the grapevine.”
“You should read it. It’s a pretty good book. Very educational.”
He flashes me his perfect smile, and it makes the sexy dimple in the center of his chin more pronounced. “I’ll think about it.” He studies me for a moment. “My full name is Greyson. It’s a family name. But everyone calls me Grey. I promise I don’t hurt women for pleasure or anything like that.” His slashing eyebrows tick inward as if the idea of hurting women makes him uncomfortable, which scores him extra brownie points.
I pretend to be affronted. “You don’t?” I gasp dramatically. “And here I was hoping you’d tie me up and flog me senseless.”
His mouth falls open, and he appears both lost for words and completely thrown.
I laugh and place my hand reassuringly on his forearm, which is resting on the bar. “I’m only kidding, Greyson.”
Relief washes over him, and he smiles again. “Ah, okay.” He averts his gaze and chuckles tightly. “You had me worried for a second.”
Then he does something I don’t expect. Something that makes me stop laughing and draw in a shaky breath.
He places his hand over mine.
He’s still chuckling, his gaze averted almost shyly, and yet this casual, effortless touch feels more intimate than if he’d reached under my dress and caressed my inner thigh. I don’t even think he’s realized what he’s done. As if comforting people comes naturally to him . . . to the point that he doesn’t even think about it.
But his touch isn’t comforting at all. At least, not to me. It’s sizzling. It’s arousing. It’s all-consuming.
His palm is callused—but not unpleasantly so—and it’s warm and dry. I don’t know what it is about rough hands—man hands, as I call them—but they turn me on. To me, calluses are a sign that a man not only works hard but plays hard, and given Greyson’s physique and demeanor, I’d say his calluses are caused by both. He strikes me as the kind of man who climbs mountains or runs military-grade obstacle courses for fun. He has a special forces look about him. Like he’d look as good dressed in SWAT gear, holding a semiautomatic rifle, as he does dressed in the shimmery grey shirt and black tailored slacks he’s wearing tonight.
All I know is that the moment his hand touched mine, an electrical current traveled up my arm, strengthening the strange connection I feel with him.
He becomes aware that I’ve stopped laughing and turns toward me. What he finds on my face makes his smile fade, and a moment later, lust-filled enchantment seeps into his expression. His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, and I suck in my breath, which in turn makes him suck in his.
“What’s your name?” he asks, moving closer.
“Katherine.” He rolls my name over his tongue. Who would have thought my own name could be an aphrodisiac. But the way it sounds rumbling across Greyson’s vocal chords is enough to make my insides quiver and my neglected libido stand up and take notice. “You have a beautiful name.”
I’ve never thought my name was beautiful until just this second. “Everybody calls me Kate.”
“I like Katherine.”
So do I, especially when he says it. “Then you can call me Katherine.”