The Ultimate Steamy Bad-Boy Billionaire Bundle

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How can I purchase Dakota's books directly from her?
Answer: You can buy Dakota's books directly through her official website or online store. Simply browse the available titles, add your chosen eBooks to the cart, and proceed to checkout to complete your purchase.

Are Dakota's books available in both digital and physical formats when buying direct?
Answer: Currently, Dakota offers her books in eBook format only. She's working hard to make paperbacks and audiobooks available soon, so stay tuned for updates!

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Answer: Yes! Buying directly from Dakota grants you access to free bonus books and exclusive deals that you won't find anywhere else.

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Answer: Absolutely! The payment process on Dakota's website is 100% secure. Your personal and financial information is protected through encrypted payment gateways.

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Answer: At the moment, Dakota doesn't offer international shipping since only eBooks are available. Once paperbacks become available, shipping options will be updated accordingly.

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Answer: You can reach out directly via email at support@romancebookbundles.com for any questions or concerns regarding your order.

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Answer: Yes, purchasing directly ensures that a larger portion of the proceeds goes straight to Dakota, helping her continue to write and produce new stories for her readers.

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Answer: Dakota occasionally runs exclusive promotions, discounts, and bundle deals on her website. Be sure to subscribe to her newsletter or follow her on social media to stay updated on the latest offers.

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Answer: Definitely! During the checkout process, you can specify the recipient's email address. Since eBooks are instantly deliverable, you can easily gift her stories to friends and loved ones.
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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 16,786+ 5-Star Reviews Across All Retailers

"This entire series went above and beyond anything I could have hoped for when starting the first book. It is definitely going on my "To read over and over" list!" ~Krystyn, Audiobook Obsession

"Giving new meaning to 'off the charts' hot!" ~Readers' Favorite

"This read demanded to be heard. It screamed escape from the every day and gave me that something extra I was looking for." ~The Book Junkie Reads

"Holy hot DAYUUMMM! I just met my new dominant! This book had it all! For the lovers of FSOG, this is your new fix and addiction!" ~Josie's Book Escape

"Full of intrigue, suspense, and steam that will have you on the edge of your seat!" ~Rosie Loves Books

"A definite page turner with enticing romance scenes that will make you sweat even during those cold winter nights!" ~Redz World
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Steam Level: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️/5

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Dakota Willink is a USA Today Bestselling Author known for crafting emotional, character-driven romances featuring damaged heroes and sassy heroines. A Star Wars fanatic and coffee lover, she’s sold over a million books worldwide, with her work translated into five languages.
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BOOKS INCLUDED IN BUNDLE:

✔️ Heart of Stone 

✔️Stepping Stone

✔️Set In Stone

✔️Wishing Stone

✔️Breaking Stone

✔️Untouched

✔️Defined

✔️Endurance

✔️Bonus Book: The Sound of Silence

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Upon purchase, this EBOOKS will be instantly delivered by BookFunnel via an email with a download link. Receive an email with the link to the ebooks, and download to your favorite reading app. And READ!

⚠️ WARNING: This series contains books that you can't put down. 
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~CHAPTER ONE: KRYSTINA~

A tendril of curly brown hair came loose from my ponytail. I pushed the hair out of my eyes, wiped the sweat off my brow and stood to view the masterpiece before me. Well, it wasn’t really a masterpiece—it was a supermarket end cap. Plain and simple. 

“Excellent work, Krys!” I looked up to see my portly boss, Walter Roberts, walking toward me. 

“Thanks, Mr. Roberts,” I replied absently. I wiped the dust off my hands with my apron and scrutinized the display I had built. God, I hate planograms. 

“Oh, come now. Don’t look at me like that,” my boss said, noting the apparent irritation written all over my face. “I know you don’t like to build displays copied from a diagram.” 

“I don’t like the way the sides stick out into the aisle like this,” I complained, pointing to the outsides of the end cap. “The display is okay, considering the fact it’s only a bunch of canned green beans and cream of mushroom soup. It’s the racking that bothers me. I think this upside-down pyramid design is a hazard.” 

“You know, if it were any other day, I would let you run away with your creativity. I just can’t allow it today,” Mr. Roberts said, vehemently shaking his head. Worry lines spread across his round face. “The potential investors will be here at one o’clock, and everything must be perfect. I have to play this by the book, Krys. I’m sorry, but there’s too much at stake.” 

He placed a patient hand on my shoulder for reassurance, and I couldn’t help but soften my sour disposition. I liked Mr. Roberts, and I didn’t want to give him a hard time, especially considering all the stress he was under. 

It was no secret that Wally’s Grocery Store was in financial trouble. After the stock market hit bottom a few years back, most of the smaller grocers had to close their doors for good, leaving Duane Reade as the only real competitor. Wally’s had stayed afloat, but they would need a strong investor if they hoped to remain open much longer. If I wanted a job, I needed to stick to the planograms —at least for today. 

“I suppose you’re right,” I conceded. 

“That’s better!” he said after seeing my change in demeanor. He gave me a sharp pat on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Krys. You’ll be a manager before you know it!” 

And with that, he was off to harass the employees in the other departments. 

I laughed to myself as I cleaned up my work area. Mr. Roberts always cracked comments about promoting me, even though he was fully aware I would never take a management job here. 

I enjoyed working at Wally’s for the most part. My coworkers were great, and I got along well with my boss. I had given careful consideration to the many management offers Mr. Roberts had presented to me over the past few months. However, a manager position at Wally’s just wasn’t for me. And it certainly would not pay my bills. My college graduation six months ago didn’t just mark the beginning of a new future; it was a reminder that my student loan bills would come due any day now. Unfortunately, my salary at Wally’s wouldn’t even put a dent in them. 

While the job had suited me well during my college years, it was becoming monotonous. Build a display; take it down. Build another, take it down—the same repetitive duties, day in and day out. I longed to use my degree in marketing, wanting my passion for sales to impact the world of advertising. I wanted a real job—one that gave me satisfaction. And one that gave me a fatter paycheck. I couldn’t continue to accept my stepfather’s support, but the job opportunities in New York had been slim to none. When the stock market took a tank, it affected not only grocery stores. It impacted the entire world of business. 

I sighed to myself as I made my way back to the break room to gather my belongings. It didn’t do me any good to dwell on the fact jobs were scarce. I just needed to keep looking. But not today. I hadn’t had an afternoon free in what seemed like ages, and I was looking forward to some quiet time. It was a beautiful day, unusually warm for the beginning of October, and I wanted to take advantage of the early shift. An afternoon in Central Park, reading a book amidst the changing foliage was just what I needed to unwind. 

Thoughts of sunshine and autumn leaves played in my mind as I stepped up to my locker and began spinning the combination lock. “Hey, Krys!” said an all too familiar voice. 

I glanced up and caught the eye of Jim McNamara. I inwardly groaned as I tossed the contents of my locker into my oversized purse. 

“Hi, Jim,” I greeted with forced politeness. I knew what was bound to come next, and a knot of dread formed in my stomach. Jim was forever asking me out, and I didn’t want to deal with his wounded puppy dog eyes when I turned him down— again. I was tired from a long shift, and I just wanted to clock out. I prayed that perhaps it would be my lucky day, and he’d leave me alone for once. 

“Do you have any plans for tonight? How about joining me for a bite to eat?” he asked, always the tireless optimistic. 

So predictable. 

Apparently, lady luck was not going to cooperate with me. Maybe if I don’t answer him, he’ll take the hint. 

I turned back to my locker, pretending not to hear his invitation for dinner. 

“So, what do you say? Dinner at the new taco joint down the street?” he eagerly asked, failing to acknowledge the fact I had been ignoring the invite. 

I should know Jim better by now. 

“I actually already have plans. I’m sorry,” I apologized half heartedly, pushing my locker door closed. 

A part of me felt guilty for thinking of Jim as nothing but a nuisance. He was a nice guy, decent looking with sandy blond hair and that boy-next-door sort of face. Jim and I worked together at Wally’s over the past three years, and I think he asked me out every day of the last two. He might have been a good catch if I had any interest in dating. Unfortunately, Jim understood none of the subtle clues I threw his way, and I didn’t have the heart to be outright nasty to him. I’m usually great at avoiding him, so I cursed myself for not hearing him come into the break room in the first place. 

“Oh, come on, Krys! You’re always busy,” he complained. When I turned to consider him, there it was—the sad puppy face. I had to force back the urge to roll my eyes. 

Be nice. 

“Another time maybe,” I said, trying to wiggle my way out of the corner I was backed into—and I was, quite literally, in a corner. With a wall at my back, a row of lockers to my left, and a table to my right, I was essentially trapped. Jim stood in front of me, making a perfect box, blocking the way out of the break room. 

“I’ll tell you what—how about you pick the date and the time? I promise to make it worth your while,” he said with a wink. “I’ll check my calendar and let you know,” I lied. 

It suddenly reminded me of a cartoon I saw as a kid, the one with the dog that had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. The angel was lecturing me and shaking her finger in disapproval. 

You shouldn’t lead him on, Krystina. Why don’t you just agree to have dinner with the nice boy? 

I ignored the angel, slipped my way past Jim, and walked hastily toward the break room door. I knew I should have been straight with Jim a long time ago. Any other guy would have received a blunt, if not rude, refusal on their first attempt at asking me out, deterring any thoughts of asking me again. Jim just made it so hard —he was almost too nice of a guy. 

“Check your schedule, and I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” Jim cheerily called out to me. 

I was sure he would, too. 

Guilt gnawed at my conscience. Perhaps I was handling the situation with Jim entirely wrong, but I knew in my heart it was for the best. He didn’t know about my past, and it was better he didn’t. The last thing I wanted was his pity. Jim deserves a nice girl and not someone bitter like me. 

“I’ll catch you later, Jim.” 

I threw a dismissive wave over my shoulder and hurried out of the break room toward the front entrance of Wally’s. I needed to get away quickly before he could pressure me any further. As soon as I stepped out onto the streets of New York, I took a deep breath. The smell of hot dog vendors and car exhaust permeated the air while the passing traffic noise and people filled my ears. A siren from a police car sounded shrilly in the distance, adding to the constant rush of the city’s organized chaos. 

I stretched out my arms and shoulders, muscles stiff and sore from lugging canned vegetables all day. Fatigue set in as I walked away from Wally’s. Working the early shift was great because I got to enjoy the afternoons. However, the early shift also meant a four in the morning wake-up call. My body screamed for caffeine. A stop at Café La Biga was definitely needed, especially if I wanted to stay awake long enough to enjoy the heatwave the city was experiencing so late in the year. I took my iPod from my purse, plugged the little earbuds into my ears, and began the short walk up 57th Street to my favorite coffee shop. 

There was some minor construction up ahead on the sidewalk, and I had to move off the curb to avoid it. A few men in neon orange hard hats nodded my way appreciatively, then followed up with obnoxious wolf whistles. They reminded me of a news article I once read about the staggering number of times the average woman gets harassed when walking through the city. 

I scowled at the men and resisted the urge to throw them an obscene hand gesture. 

Pigs. 

I quickly sidestepped the construction, turned up my iPod’s volume, and hummed along to a song by Tokyo Police Club. It was an upbeat tune that added a little spring to my step, quickly warding off the irritation I endured over the city workers. 

Feeling more relaxed, I did what I always do when I walked the streets of New York—I took in the surrounding sights. Since moving here over four years ago, I had yet to tire of the constant changes and the little surprises my city held in store for me every day. The sounds, the smells, and the energy could not compare to anyplace else. 

While its sheer size may have been intimidating to me initially, I had quickly grown accustomed to the busy hustle and bustle and adapted accordingly. New York was a living being. It had its own pulse, a different beat than the rest of the world, and I loved living here more than I ever imagined possible. 

I smelled the aroma of espresso and fresh pastries before I even rounded the corner onto 8th Avenue. Café La Biga was opened thirty-five years ago by an Italian couple, Maria and Angelo Gianfranco. The café was small, with a simple interior that the owners modeled after the original Café La Biga in Rome, Italy. Angelo frequently boasted that the café was the only place in New York to get an authentic Italian espresso. Whether it was true, I didn’t know. That was not why I had become a regular of the cozy little coffee shop. I came because La Biga was an experience. 

I opened the door to the café and heard the familiar sound of espresso beans being ground. Every one of the little two-person tables was occupied, with the local chatter almost drowning out the voice of Dean Martin playing over the speakers. Angelo was whistling behind the counter and tamping espresso grounds into a portafilter. He stopped to give me an enormous smile when he saw me walk up. 

“Krys! Ciao, bella! Where have you been? We have not seen you in a long time!” 

“It’s only been two days, Angelo!” I laughed lightheartedly. “Two days is too long to go without seeing your beautiful face,” he joked in broken English. Angelo prepared my favorite drink without my asking—a cappuccino with two packets of raw sugar. The aging Italian had the memory of an elephant. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with work and sending out resumes to different advertising companies. Plus, I worked the early shift yesterday and today. Unfortunately, you’re not open at four in the morning,” I pointed out with a regretful shrug of my shoulders. “Besides, don’t feel too bad about not seeing me. I haven’t seen my roommate in three days, and she lives with me!” “You young people are always so busy—you never sit still!” he chided. 

“Speaking of which, can you put my cap in a to-go cup? I have a date with a book in Central Park,” I added with a grin. “Bravo, bravo! It makes me happy to hear you are going out to enjoy this wonderful sunshine. You need to relax and enjoy life more often, bella. If I were a few years younger, I would show you how the Italians enjoy living,” he said with a devilish wink and handed me my drink. 

As if on cue, Maria came out of the backroom. 

“Ah, stop it, you old fool! Leave the poor girl alone. She doesn’t want to be bothered by you!” Angelo’s wife quipped. Maria’s eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled at me. I walked over to the register and waited as she cashed me out.

“How are you, honey? You seem thin. You are working all the time,” she scolded. “You need something to eat, yes?” “I’m fine, Maria. No, thank you,” I graciously declined, then sighed as she packaged up pastries for me, anyway. I mentally calculated the calories going into the bag. My hips didn’t like the resulting sum. She left me with little choice but to pay for the cappuccino and the pastries I didn’t need. As sweet as Maria was, she never understood the word ‘no.’ 

I said my goodbyes to Maria and Angelo and left the café. My conversation with the shop owners reminded me I had to call Allyson, my roommate. I missed her. Our schedules had been so opposite lately, and I hadn’t talked to my friend in days. It was a short walk to Central Park, and I decided to give her a call along the way. 

I reached into my purse for my cell phone but had trouble locating it. After fishing around for a few minutes, I knew it wasn’t there. 

Damn! 

In my mad dash to avoid Jim, I must have left it in my locker at Wally’s. Frustrated over the time wasted, I turned around and headed back. 

When I finally reached the front doors of Wally’s, I hesitated before going in. I really didn’t want to risk another run-in with Jim. On impulse, I yanked the ponytail out of my hair and shook out my curly mop. 

Head down and face hidden. Maybe he won’t see me. 

I knew it was a long shot, so I superstitiously crossed my fingers before hurrying inside. 

By some minor miracle, I managed to get to my locker, retrieve my phone, and leave the break room without being seen. As I was walking down aisle nine, I mentally congratulated myself for a successful stealth mission, even though I was still mildly aggravated that it had delayed my plans. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late for the park. 

I glanced down at my phone to check the time and saw I had a missed call from Allyson. Trying to remember what my friend had planned for that night, I began typing her a quick text to ask her—  WHAM! 

Pain pierced through my skull in a ferocious blast, and stars dotted my vision. I grabbed my head with two hands to stop the clanging sound of metal reverberating through my eardrums. After a moment or two, I regained some sense of focus and stared directly at the metal racking of an end cap—the same end cap I had so carefully built that morning. 

“Damn planogram!” I cursed. 

My right eye was killing me, and I could already sense it swelling. I looked down at my shirt. Not only had I smacked my head, but my cappuccino had dumped all over the front of me. As my gaze traveled down to the floor, I saw my cell phone lying face down in a puddle of milk and espresso. I groaned. 

Please don’t let the screen be cracked! 

I repeated the silent plea over and over again as I bent over to pick it up. Sure enough, the screen had shattered. 

“Son of a bitch!” I swore out loud, looking at the spiderweb cracks on the glass. 

Feeling more than just a little foolish, I looked around to make sure no one had seen my klutzy mishap. 

Heat spread up my neck to my face in embarrassment when I saw Mr. Roberts, Jim McNamara, and a man in a suit standing about halfway down the aisle. They were all staring at me in shock over what had transpired. 

Fantastic—I have an audience. 

Then I did a double-take. 

The third man was not just another ordinary guy in a suit. This man was attractive—very attractive. He was young, too. I guessed he wasn’t a day over thirty, with an arresting face and perfectly chiseled square jawline. He was taller than the other two men, standing over six feet. He looked absolutely magnificent in his dark gray sport coat, white shirt, and solid black tie. His hair was wavy and almost black. It was cut longer, but not too long, with the dark ends just touching his collar. 

Holy hell! No man should be allowed to look that good in a suit! The sleeping devil on my shoulder woke up to take a peek. I suddenly had a vision of running my hands through those silky dark waves, across the broad span of his shoulders… 

“Oh, my! Are you okay?” Mr. Roberts’ voice broke me from my reverie. The three men started walking in my direction. Mr. Roberts, alarmed over what happened, was running his hands over his thinning gray hair. 

I caught the gaze of the man in the suit as he strode toward me with an air of confident grace. His stare was intense, intimidating almost, yet lines of concern spread across his flawlessly sculpted features. Speechless and embarrassed by my clumsiness, I took a step back. 

Big mistake. 

I slipped on the spilled drink and went down—hard. Now my head and my ass hurt. Mortified beyond all belief, I wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. 

This cannot possibly be happening. The hottest guy on the planet. Me sitting in a puddle of cappuccino. Un. Fucking. Believable. 

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, and I looked up. The suited man was gazing down at me with the most incredible pair of blue eyes I had ever seen. They were the color of cobalt blue, reserved and calculating as he regarded me. I didn’t think eyes could be so vibrant. For a moment, I presumed he wore colored contacts. However, as I continued to stare, the depths of his eyes were endless and seemed to swallow me whole. The intensity of them sent a shiver up my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. 

He was definitely not wearing contacts. 

Somewhere in the distance, I heard Mr. Roberts speaking again. “Did you hear me? I asked if you were okay? This is Mr. Stone. He’s trying to help you up.” 

“Mr. Stone?” I asked, half in a daze. I couldn’t tear my focus away from those astonishing deep blues. 

“That’s correct. And you might be?” 

Stone’s voice was smooth and confident as he lowered himself to a crouching position next to me. Running his hand down the side of my arm, he rested it near my elbow. I felt my pulse quicken at his sudden closeness and from the heat surging off of him in a palpable wave. He was just so there, radiating with power, eyes level with mine. 

He repeated his question a second time, again asking me my name. All I could think of was the hand firmly present on my arm, warming my skin through the sleeve of my thin cotton shirt. His touch sparked an electric shock, igniting a presence in me I hadn’t known existed. Butterflies twirled and danced in my stomach. I shook my head to collect my bearings and gave myself a quick reprimand. 

Um, hello? He’s asking you a question! Get a grip—he’s just a guy in a suit for crying out loud! 

“I’m K-Krys,” I finally stammered out. I sounded like an idiot. I was sure of it. I fidgeted with my hands and licked my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling as dry as the Sahara Desert. A dangerous look flashed in Stone’s eyes. It happened so fast, and I couldn’t be sure if it were only my imagination. 

“Krys? Is that short for something else?” He sounded displeased. Was there something wrong with my name? When I didn’t answer immediately, Jim responded for me. “It’s short for Krystina. Krystina Cole.” 

It was hard to miss the expression of irritation on Stone’s face as he slowly turned his head to consider Jim. 

“Why, thank you, Mr. McNamara, for speaking on Miss Cole’s behalf. However, I would have preferred to hear it from Miss Cole herself,” he said curtly. 

“Well, Miss Cole appears to have lost her voice,” Jim retorted back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Jim!” Mr. Roberts hissed. 

Stone simply ignored both Jim and Mr. Roberts and turned back to me. He stood gracefully and held out his hand. 

“Please, allow me to help you up,” he offered. 

I didn’t know if I could stand, and not because of the fall I took. I was utterly mesmerized by this man. It was as if he had me under a spell, and I didn’t trust my shaky legs. 

I took hold of his outstretched hand and carefully moved to stand up. His grip was firm as he pulled me to my feet. He reached his free arm around me, securing it against my lower back to balance me. His hold was steadfast, pinning me against his side, eyes never once wavering from mine. My cheeks flushed crimson, and those striking blues darkened. I felt my heart rate accelerate even faster as I returned his gaze. He was so close to me. I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in his scent. It was a heady combination of sex and sin. 

“I’m sure she could have gotten up on her own, you know,” Jim said irritably, reminding me of my humiliating predicament. I blinked, clearing my clouded vision. 

Ugh! Go away, Jim! 

I wanted to grab one of the canned goods off the nearest shelf and throw it at Jim’s skull. 

Much to my disappointment, Stone slowly removed his arm from around my waist, took a step back, and released my hand. Once he was sure I was steady on my feet, he broke his gaze from mine and turned his head toward Jim. I could no longer see the expression on Stone’s face, but it must have been intimidating. Jim seemed to cower visibly and took a few steps back. 

Mr. Roberts, having noticed the tension on the verge of boiling over, made a loud show of clearing his throat and was quick to dismiss Jim to do some other task in the dairy department. 

“But, Mr. Roberts, I was supposed to—” Jim started in protest. “Jim, please go help Melanie. Now. She’s alone in the department today, and I’m sure she could use a hand unloading the truck that just arrived,” Mr. Robert ordered Jim sternly. Jim looked in my direction, his face creased in a scowl, and stomped away. I couldn’t care less about what Jim was supposed to do. I was still thunderstruck, having uttered only four words since setting my eyes on the daunting Mr. Stone. I was usually a chatterbox, but I was so taken by the man in front of me, I’d been stunned into silence. I forced myself to do a reality check. Pull yourself together already! 

I looked at the two remaining men. Mr. Roberts had a worried expression on his plump face. Stone, on the other hand, wore a look of amusement. I followed the direction of his stare and realized he had been looking down at my espresso-stained work shirt, wet and plastered to my torso. 

Once again, I felt an embarrassing flush creep up my neck. So, what? I fell—big deal. Accidents happen. Sure, I’m a stuttering idiot too, but that isn’t my fault either. Nobody should be allowed to be as savagely gorgeous as he is. My reaction is just natural. I’m sure every woman he meets wants to jump his bones. 

Jump his bones? Did I really just think that? 

It was time to leave—and fast. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t understand how this man could unnerve me so much. I couldn’t even talk, let alone form a coherent thought. I only knew I was mortified and could no longer endure his penetrating stare. 

I began to slowly back away, using caution, so I didn’t slip again on the wet floor. Mr. Roberts was rambling on about terrible planograms and schematics that needed changing. Stone continued to watch me a moment longer before turning his attention back to Mr. Roberts. I took advantage of the distraction to make my escape, but not before chancing one more glance at the hypnotizing Mr. Stone. 

He was looking at me again, a bad-boy smile curling up the edges of his lips. He held up his hand to silence Mr. Roberts. “Have a good day, Miss Cole. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He said it like it was a promise. 

Then the realization struck me—he was the investor.
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