Showing results by author "BB Easton" in All Categories

The inspiration for seasons one and two of the hit Netflix series Sex/Life One woman's secret journal completely changes her marriage in this hilarious and biting memoir. School psychologists aren't supposed to write books about sex. Doing so would be considered 'unethical' and 'a fireable...

Growing up, I spent every night tucked under my mother’s arm, dreamily listening to tales from her favorite book series—Legend Has It by Darby Donovan, a collection of spooky folklore about a town called Glenshire and the lonely, gray-eyed fairy prince who haunted the woods there. I knew they were just stories, but when my mother died and left me in the care of my cold, abusive father, that fictional fairy prince suddenly became very, very real to me. It was as if he was always there, hiding in the shadows, offering me his silent comfort.

I can’t remember anymore if my grandfather’s eyes were blue or green, but I’ll never forget the way they wrinkled at the corners when he laughed at one of his own jokes. Or the way they sparkled with mischief when he told me tales about the magical creatures that dwelled in the forest behind his humble Irish sheep farm. As a child, I believed every fantastical word. But when he warned me about the mute boy who also lurked in those woods, the one the priest had declared to be the spawn of Satan himself, I refused to listen.

Ronald 'Knight' McKnight was the meanest, most misunderstood boy at Peach State High School...perhaps on the entire planet. Knight hated everyone, except for me, BB - the perky, quirky punk chick with the locker next to his. I, on the other hand, liked everybody...except for Knight. I was scared to death of him, actually. All I wanted was to marry a Prince Eric-lookalike Lance Hightower and have a million of his babies. Unfortunately for me, Knight was even better at getting his way than I was, and once he got under my skin, my life would never be the same.

My type had been well-established. There might as well have been a giant sign on my heart that said, 'Good Guys Need Not Apply'. Which is exactly why I had to friendzone Ken Easton. The man was a former football star, smelled like fresh laundry instead of stale cigarettes, and had more ties in his closet than tattoos on his knuckles. Pssh. BOR-ING. But the more I got to know my hunky study buddy, the more questions I came away with. 

With only three days left until the predicted apocalypse, the small town of Franklin Springs, Georgia, has become a wasteland of abandoned cars, abandoned homes, abandoned businesses, and abandoned people. People like Rainbow Williams. Rain isn’t afraid of dying. In fact, she’s looking forward to it. If she can just outrun her pain until April 23, she’ll never have to feel it at all.

I am thiiiis close to finally becoming a full-fledged psychologist. PhD? Check. Prestigious postdoc position? Check. Letter of recommendation from my supervisor? That’s going to take a miracle. Not only because my boss said I have to cure our most-prized client’s writer’s block in time for him to meet his insane deadline, but also because that client just so happens to be…Thomas O’Reardon. The wickedly brilliant, achingly beautiful, devastatingly British best-selling author whose psychological thrillers line my bookshelf at home.

In 1999, BB Easton met her Prince Charming. He was the tall, tattooed, wickedly handsome bass player for the up-and-coming rock band Phantom Limb. But, more importantly, he was hers. She knew it the moment he flashed her that shy dimpled smile. And he knew it too. Hansel 'Hans' Oppenheimer wore his heart on his sleeve and poured his soul into every lyric he wrote about BB.

Ronald 'Knight' McKnight was obsessive. Possessive. Downright psychopathic. But that didn't stop me from falling in love with him...or falling apart when he joined the marines. When he left, Knight told me to 'find someone better', but I didn't. I found Harley instead. Harley James was a fun, flirty, tattooed mechanic whose face was as angelic as his secrets were sinful. He taught me how to live again. How to laugh again. But would he teach me how to love again? Over Knight's dead body.

4 homens em 44 capítulos é um irreverente e espirituoso livro de memórias que resultou de experiências malucas, recheado de episódios divertidos e cenas muito, muito quentes. Com narração de Penélope Nova.

With only three days left until the predicted apocalypse, the small town of Franklin Springs, Georgia, has become a wasteland of abandoned cars, abandoned homes, abandoned businesses, and abandoned people. People like Rainbow Williams. Rain isn’t afraid of dying. In fact, she’s looking forward to it. If she can just outrun her pain until April 23, she’ll never have to feel it at all.

I knew my fate the moment I surrendered. I’d seen the public executions on TV. No jury. No bail. Just a hole in the ground and a bullet between the eyes, broadcast live in high-definition. There are worse ways to die, I told myself. I was doing the right thing, exchanging my life for Rain’s. Survival wasn’t everything.

I’ve lived my life by a strict set of rules—rules that have kept me alive, rules that have kept the nightmares of my past at bay. But the moment I met her, I crossed all of them out with a giant X and scrawled the words Protect Rainbow Williams next to them in murderous block letters. That’s all I cared about. Keeping her safe. Keeping her—period.

BB ist frustriert. Denn das Sexleben mit ihrem sehr attraktiven, aber leider wenig einfallsreichen Mann ist nach vielen Jahren Ehe alles andere als aufregend. Der Alltag, der Stress, die Kinder... Man kennt es. Um wenigstens in der Fantasie ein wenig Prickeln zu erleben, beginnt sie Tagebuch über die erotischen Erlebnisse mit ihren Verflossenen zu führen. Dabei nimmt sie kein Blatt vor den Mund. Was sie nicht weiß: Ihr Ehemann liest heimlich mit, was sie schreibt, und legt sich von da an richtig ins Zeug... Schonungslos ehrlich, sexy und herrlich komisch.

Netflix-premiär 2021! Efter att ha ägnat flera år åt att försöka hetta upp mitt sexliv gav jag upp och vände mig till min dagbok. Kanske var Ken, min vackra, kalla, sifferälskande man helt enkelt inte kapabel till den typ av passion jag ville ha. Mina ex har alla varit lika tatuerade och testosterondrivna som männen i mina älskade kärleksromaner, och om jag inte kunde få den typen av passion igen i verkligheten kunde jag åtminstone skriva om det. Ingen skulle ju någonsin få veta. Gissa vad? Min man läste. Och inte bara det. Det väckte honom till liv.