Ergebnis von "Michele Mills" in Alle Kategorien

Lorsqu’un espion de la République disparaît sur les lunes de Varl, le Conseil Jedi demande à Obi-Wan et Anakin d’infiltrer un circuit clandestin de courses de modules dirigé par un caïd du crime soupçonné de retenir prisonnier ledit espion. Anakin tenant le rôle d’un pilote d’élite et Obi-Wan étant relégué à celui d’assistant, les tensions habituelles entre les deux menacent à tout instant de monter d’un cran.

My indentured servitude is almost over and freedom is a heartbeat away! Until some alien guy buys me because he needs a nanny, quick. What? I’m not even good with kids. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life. But the beings at the employment agency won’t listen. “Hew-mans are hot right now. Everyone wants a hew-man nanny”. Great. And since there isn’t another human available...I’m hired on the spot. Yay, me. And on day one of my new job I’m having a panic attack because I finally meet my new boss and he looks like Satan himself.

The first three books in the best-selling Monsters Love Curvy Girls series! Ferocious flame-throwing, satanic-looking males with tender-hearted marshmallow interiors who passionately love their human females exactly as they are. This box set includes the following books: Book One: His Human Nanny, narrated by Patrick Zeller and Lexi Maynard; Book Two: His Human Surrogate, narrated by Patrick Zeller and Victoria Mei; and Book Three: His Human Assistant, narrated by Patrick Zeller and Neva Navarre.

Get Sten Flagstone's HEA—An enemies to lovers romance!

That rich, scary devil outbid everyone at the virtual auction and got himself to the top of the list (pissing off a lot of other Hyrrokin) and, gulp, I’m his surrogate. And...now I’m carrying Bergelmir’s baby. But I have my head on straight about this. I’m doing this so my friend can be a father. Because that’s all we are - friends.

After a teeny incident with red paint, my hometown votes that it’s done with my activist ways. Now I’m on an entirely different planet, holding a single suitcase, standing on a platform, waiting for my new alien husband to arrive in his vehicle. I bite my lip as I wait because there’s one serious problem with this whole situation. After a best forgotten, one-night stand gone wrong, I’m three months pregnant and obviously this baby won’t be his.

I’m a corporate whistleblower running for my life, so I take the first job I can find off planet. Now, I’m a lowly assistant for some rich devil named Hannibal Hellstone. And when I say “devil", I mean devil. As in this guy’s skin is dark red, he has shiny black horns, sharp fangs, silver-tipped claws, and a barbed tail. This Hyrrokin is scary AF, and his eight-year-old son looks just like him.

I’ve been engaged to the same annoying guy for four long years, and still, no wedding date in sight. Grr. I’m completely fed up with this sham, so I tell my “fiancé” I’m taking a job off planet, hoping this outrageous behavior will allow him to finally break off our ridiculous engagement. It doesn’t. So, I leave and become an organizing consultant to some scary alien.

I’m getting married today, and I’m so freaking depressed. My bridal gown is exquisite. The ring is enormous. But my groom is evil personified, and I’m being forced into this doomed marriage. I’m seconds from breaking into a full-on ugly cry. And right then, as if by magic, the church doors burst open. Women scream and children scramble as a huge, satanic-looking alien stomps down the aisle, flicking his tail, flashing flames, and wreaking chaos in his wake. He’s looking right at me. “Charlotte Cruz?"

A month-long retreat of rest and relaxation from my high-powered career is just what I need. Until I’m the only human in a rental home community on a distant planet populated by beings who look like satanic devils. Yep.

I married a dead war hero. His name was Fire Lieutenant Byric Sandstone—an extremely wealthy Hyrrokin landowner, with a complicated estate. Obviously, I’m not really his widow. It’s a technicality, on paper so I could bypass immigration and perform my duties. Everyone but the lawyer who forged the signature thinks I’m really Byric’s chosen bound, but my real job is to care for his elderly grandmother and his three-headed wulver. I love my cushy life on Tarvos.

Rayzor of Twelve, a lonely Bounty Hunter banished from his home world, is determined to follow his mission parameters: He must extract his target from a primitive planet called Earth with zero human casualties. His plan unfolds with precision, until a human female gets in the way.

I'm lost in the middle of nowhere on a freaking alien planet. Running away from the Hyrrokin mafia. It's as terrible as you can imagine. I haven't eaten in two days and it's raining in the wildlands. Lightning strikes overhead and thunder rumbles in the distance. I slip and fall in the mud. And then I sit at the bottom of a ravine, crying. There's a blur in the distance. Is that a mirage? No, its a deadly, satanic-looking male with a bare chest, huge black horns and a barbed tail racing right for me. I scream as this monster looms overhead.

How can a human who is set to gain a significant inheritance have anything in common with a foul-mouthed, satanic-looking security specialist? Smoke regularly wafts out of this guy’s nostrils and his shiny barbed tail juts out in the air behind him as he prowls across the military hanger. But…I’m enchanted with Idun’s deep voice, his massive bare chest, and those epic thighs. This Hyrrokin is a handsome red devil and oh so touchable. And I want my tongue in his mouth, immediately. Unfortunately, Idun thinks I’m a spoiled party girl and wants nothing to do with me.

I’m not exactly bubbly and friendly. This is probably why my lonely job as a private investigator is perfect for my skill set. Usually, I’m very good at what I do. I get the job done and move on. But my latest assignment has thrown me for a loop. The satanic-looking Hyrrokin biologist I’ve been tracking has gotten under my skin. Sir Bane Ashmoor has become much more than a job. Through my telescopic lens, I can literally see my future unborn children in his deadly eyes.

Axel, Steel, and Gage. Merciless supersoldiers. Forbidden cybernetic experiments gone awry. They escaped from their Hurlian programmers and now live hidden in a desolate area of space where few enter and none leave. They crave one female to claim, one who will satisfy all their desires. But Cyborgs are illegal, so finding a mate has proven difficult. Until Megan.

On the 40th anniversary of Neil Postman's prophetic book Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985), Scrolling Ourselves to Death gathers today's most incisive writers to think critically about the shaping power of contemporary technology. This book explores Postman's insights, connects them to the challenges facing Christians today, and turns difficult challenges into life-giving opportunities for the church. Stepping back from their screens, listeners will be equipped to live faithfully, and grow spiritually, in a "scrolling ourselves to death" world.

I'm in a predicament of historic proportions. I've learned I can't inherit my grandfather's highly profitable business unless I'm married? Yes, an entirely ridiculous rule. I live with a herd of rescue cats and nary a boyfriend in sight. I'm also considered plain, sharp-tongued and overweight. And I've never, once been interested in marriage. Hence my reason for applying for a mail-order husband. The next morning I scream with fright when I find a huge, satanic-looking alien lurking on my doorstep.

Sofiya Petrov is stuck in a stand-off with the most celebrated gladiator-athletes in the entire four sectors. Two muscle-bound celebrities who insist on living and working in the same small section of the Swirl with her — a section they each declare is legally their property.

Love, in a hopeless place. Two months after a virus took out civilization, Rachel Donnelly is the last living soul in California, as far as she can tell. Until she runs into a Marine sniper, battle-hardened but alive and healthy. Adam Sanchez would love nothing more than a slamming session of I-can't-believe-we're-alive post-apocalyptic sex in the back of his Hummer. But Rachel's fragility, inexperience-and much younger age-hold him back from exposing her to his raw, aggressive sexuality. If anything, Rachel needs protection. Especially from himself.