From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Probst comes a new story in her Marriage to a Billionaire series. The Book of Spells returns in. The Book of Spells: The Official Love Spell from The Marriage to a Billionaire Series - Kindle edition by Jennifer Probst. Romance Kindle eBooks. Ladies Who Write · Contact · Press Kit · Jennifer Probst Find Me. Twitter; Facebook; Goodreads; Instagram; YouTube; Pinterest; Bookbub; Books and Main .
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Start by marking “The Book of Spells (Marriage to a Billionaire, #)” as Want to Read: The Official love spell from the Marriage to a Billionaire series And an exclusive short story with Nick and Alexa from the bestseller The Marriage Bargain. This was a quick yet excellent read. Jennifer Probst - The Marriage Trap (Book 2).epub. KB. Jennifer Probst - The Marriage Mistake (Book 3).epub. KB. Jennifer Probst - The Book of Spells. Jennifer Probst - The Marriage Mistake (Book 3).epub. KB. Jennifer Probst - The Book of Spells (Book ).epub. MB. Jennifer Probst.
In charming Verily, New York, Kate Seymour has a smashing success with Kinnections, the matchmaking service she owns with her two best girlfriends. Can Kate keep their relationship strictly business when her electrifying attraction nearly knocked her off her feet? Or has the matchmaker finally met her match? A strange panic roared through his system, but he stood frozen in the foyer, watching the scene unfold. Hell, no. He kept his voice gentle and firm. He was always discreet when it came to women, not needing his sister to try to bond with any of them, since long-term commitment was doomed from the start.
Rip is quite the broken alpha — savage on the outside, but tender on the inside. If you could choose a song to have bene playing in the background when they have their first tender moment what would it be? You always write such dynamic, multi-faceted characters. Are they ever based off of people you know in real life? Thank you — what a wonderful compliment! That makes the best stories for me—being open to life. What was the last movie you watched that made you laugh?
So we did, and I have to admit I was just cracking up.
It also made me realize I may need to skip going across country in a trailer with my own family. After that, I have a wonderful surprise dropping in August to satisfy all my summer readers so tons to look forward to! Professor Ella Blake. If he'd ever created an image of a spinster librarian, this woman would have been his inspiration.
From her drab, baggy fitting clothes, to the black glasses hiding most of her features, she practically faded into the background.
Her hair was twisted up into a tight bun, giving her face a bit of a pinched look. Her gray sweater and black trousers did nothing for her figure, or her skin tone. The only brightness in her entire collage was a slash of red-orange lipstick, which became so garish with her olive skin, it literally made an onlooker jerk back. I suggest better preparation is in order to pass this class. Our first exam is Friday and there will be another paper due shortly.
Please make sure you refer to the syllabus for due dates. I do not appreciate or reward lateness. He'd deliberately approached her last week and explained his grueling schedule. With his demanding workload and ambitious course work, he'd specifically asked Professor Blake for an extension on the paper. Hadn't she agreed? It had taken him a lot to register for college at thirty-eight years old, but he had his eye on a management position at Bilkins Construction, and he was determined to change his life.
He'd taken extra courses and jammed in a four-year degree into two. Finally, graduation loomed before him, but he'd put off fulfilling his last course requirement of Composition Of course, now he ended up with a sexually frustrated teacher focused on feminist literature to make excuses for her own lack of a love life. I'd like to hear thoughts on The Yellow Wallpaper.
What do you think made the story so popular? What was the writer really trying to tell us? He'd fix it. He'd be extra nice and charming and give her some needed male attention.
Maybe she'd forgotten, and he'd just remind her, they'd laugh about it, and he'd get a damn C.
Professor Blake paced the front of the room in her usual black boots that made no sound. He wondered if she ever wore stilettos. Probably didn't know what they were. She preferred shoes with no sex appeal, no heel, and no sense of fun. What type of underwear did she wear to match those awful outfits?
Probably cotton. Maybe even granny panties in plain white.
She was staring at him with a focused expression that almost made him blush. Of course, she had no clue he'd been wondering about the look of her panties. He gave her an easy grin that usually charmed women within a few seconds. He hadn't understood the end. Hell, he hadn't understood much of it and daydreaming in class wasn't helping him.
He kept the grin and nodded. Sounded good. She tapped her finger against her orange-red lips and leaned against the side of the desk. Tell me more. He tried not to sweat and frowned, as if thinking hard, and tried to download time. He waited for her to move on to someone else, but instead she actually walked up the aisle to his seat.
Sweat pricked his forehead. He hadn't felt this put on the spot since high school. Why don't you tell me exactly what you feel the story is about? Up close, her dull brown eyes glinted with flecks of gold-green, pulling an observer in. Her face seemed expressionless but Connor caught the challenge in her gaze-the knowledge he had no clue what he was talking about, and she was going in for the kill.
Who would've thought a drab English professor could be so ruthless? He regrouped and assessed the situation. Tilting his head, he stared right back, refusing to back down.
It was a big whine fest of a character trapped in a room, obsessed with the wallpaper but not enough guts to get herself out of the situation. That's what I thought about the story. He waited for her attack, knowing he'd challenged her in class, which was her natural terrain.
Still, Connor didn't care. That story sucked and it was a relief to admit it. A small smile touched her lips. He grinned. By a reader who has no desire to try and follow the writer or do more than lazily lay back and wait for the car wrecks, or sex scene, or shootout. We've become a society who wants so badly to be entertained, without using a brain cell, and refuses to do the work to engage and follow greatness.
Frankly, Mr. Dunkle, you disappoint me. I had expected much more of you. She walked away on soundless shoes and pointed to the blackboard. Let's begin. This was going to be a bitch of a semester. Chapter Two "I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in"--Virginia Woolf Ella watched her students file out of class but her attention was focused on one particular individual. Connor Dunkle. She sensed a play coming on, and she was actually going to enjoy it.
Teaching provided her a sick sense of satisfaction when she got to take an egotist, smug person and knock them down a few notches. It also offered a perfect conduit to change the thinking and view of the world one student at a time. Sure, sometimes she felt as if she made no difference with her classes. But once in a while, she lasered in on a student who needed to be challenged.
Can I talk to you a moment? Ella hid her smile and wondered how the first round would fare. She'd pegged him from the first day, but sometimes a student surprised her. She could've picked trendy or delicate frames, but she liked the way these intimidated her students.
Had she ever seen such perfect white teeth? The man was a walking delectable treat for the female vision, but Ella had prepared. She checked in with her body and was quite pleased. Other than a recognizable hum between her thighs, she was completely in control. Of course, he didn't know that.
Ella judged there weren't many offers Connor made that were turned down. The reason was all six foot five inches that towered over her desk with lean, cut muscles evident beneath his casual clothes.
Dirty blond hair lay messily over his brow.
He wore it long, and the thick strands curled around the edge of his ears. His face was sculpted quite beautifully, from the high cheekbones, full lips, and perfect dimples.
And damned if her fingers didn't itch just once to brush those gold streaked strands from his forehead.
His eyes delivered the final one-two punch. Crystal blue swirled with a touch of green, clear as glass and deep as the sea. Eyes like that could mesmerize prey, but Ella had tons of practice restraining messy desires. She met his gaze, ignoring the tiny tumble in her belly, and kept her gaze on the prize.