Whitney G. books in order
Whitney Gracia Williams, otherwise known as Whitney G., is an American New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of romance novels.
She is best known for writing books such as Reasonable Doubt: Full Series, Sincerely, Carter (2015), and Two Weeks Notice (2018).
A keen lover of coffee, candy and alpha-males, Whitney enjoys writing steamy romance tales primarily set in big cities, even though she resides in a tiny and sleepy town in Tennessee.
Besides publishing books, Whitney also runs The Indie Tea—an inspirational and motivational site for indie-authors, where she reveals her innermost thoughts and also shares some behind-the-scenes action.
Genres: Contemporary , Romance
- My Last Resolution (2015)
- Turbulence (2016)
- Thirty Day Boyfriend (2017)
- Over Us, Over You (2017)
- My Enemy Next Door (2018)
- Two Weeks Notice (2018)
- Break Up with Him, for Me (2021)
Empire of Lies
- Tell Me a Dirty Lie (2020)
- Love Me While You Lie (2020)
- Kiss Away the Lies (2020)
- The Office Party (2020)
- Take Two (2012)
Mid Life Love
- Mid Life Love (2013)
Naughty Bedroom Collection
- Can I Come Over? (2020)
- Can You Handle It? (2021)
- On a Tuesday (2017)
- On a Wednesday (2021)
- Reasonable Doubt 1 (2014)
- Reasonable Doubt 2 (2014)
- Reasonable Doubt 3 (2014)
- Reasonable Doubt Full Series (2014)
- Sincerely, Carter (2015)
- Forget You, Ethan (2018)
- Naughty Boss (2016)
- Dirty Doctor (2017)
- Cocky Client (2017)
Detailed book overview
My boyfriend is an asshole. A pure, one of a kind, I-wish-I-was-making-this-up asshole. Every year, I write "Dump his ass" as my most important resolution, but I've never done it. Until now. Well, kind of ... Instead of showing up to our "secret" engagement party, I've shown up to the airport--ready and willing to go wherever the next flight is bound.
Determined to keep and fulfill all of my resolutions, I'm proud of myself for finally striking out on my own. Until I never make it to my final destination. Until the sexy stranger who sat next to me on the plane changes everything. Until my "last resolution" is fulfilled a lot earlier than I thought...
A forbidden and steamy romance that will challenge everything you've ever heard about the 'mile high club'...
Broke, down on her luck, and living in a crappy apartment, Gillian Taylor takes on part-time jobs whenever she isn't serving coffee and cocktails in the sky.
She also "steals nights" at one of the condos she cleans while housekeeping in Manhattan, but that's a story for another day.
Or, so she thought .
One night, while bringing a sexy stranger back to a place that she definitely doesn't own, she realizes that she's unknowingly brought him home to his own condo.
And he isn't laughing about this "coincidence."
Yet, one heated argument somehow turns into the most passionate, sex-filled night of her life.
She vows never to set foot in his place again, and he promises not to press charges.
But weeks later, she sees the sexy stranger again and realizes that he's the pilot of her assigned flight.
This is only the beginning...
What was supposed to become a one-time thing becomes a turbulent affair that neither of them will forget.
"An erotic romance with twists and turns galore and Whitney G. at her absolute best!"
NB: This story was formerly published under the titles Mister Weston & Turbulence: A Cocky Pilot Romance.
I should've never agreed to this arrangement...
Thirty days ago, my boss--Mr. Wolf of Wall Street--came to me with an offer I couldn't refuse: Sign my name on the dotted line and pretend to be his fiancée for one month. If I agreed, he would let me out of my employment contract with a "very generous" severance package.
The rules were pretty simple: No intimate kissing, no actual sex. Just pretend to love each other for the press, even though I've secretly wanted to knock that sexy smirk off his face since the first day we met.
I definitely didn't need to think twice about this. I signed my name and started counting down the seconds to when I would never have to deal with his special brand of a**-holery again.
I only made it to one minute...
We argued the entire four-hour flight to his hometown, failed to make a convincing impression with the welcoming press, and right when I was about to knock that arrogant look off his face in real life? He purposely dropped his bath towel in front of me, distracting me with his nine-inch cock to "show me who the bigger person was" in our relationship. Then he gave me his trademark smirk once again and asked if I wanted to consummate our marriage.
Tragically, this is only day one.
We still have 29 more days to go...
Subject: Delete this message after you read it...
I'm assuming you're still hungover, so I'll make this brief.
Last night, you slipped under my sheets (without my permission), and we almost had sex. I got the hell out of the bed once I realized it was you, and I took you home.
That's the story.
Just in case you've forgotten, you're my best friend's little sister. We will never be anything more. (We can't be anything more.) Our previous friendship is still unresolved--or "over" in your terms, so I'd prefer if we worked on becoming 'just friends' again since you're in town.
Nonetheless, I'm not a man who leaves questions unanswered--even the drunken ones, so to properly close our inappropriate conversation:
Yes, I liked the way your lips felt against mine when you were on top of me.
Yes, I do "prefer" rough sex, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't rough with you.
No, I had no idea you were still a virgin...
This message never happened,
“Give it to me harder.” “Ohhhhh, yes, Baby!” “I’m about to come…”
No, these aren’t the lines from a porno script. These are the loud moans that are currently coming through my neighbor’s wall. (I’ve even heard her say “Oh Daddyyyy!” a time or two, but no judgement.)
Since moving to New York and taking a job at a new firm, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep thanks to my neighbor’s “sexcapades.”
What the hell is she doing over there?
If that wasn’t bad enough, the woman I’ve always wanted in college also works at this firm, but she makes my days difficult since she still considers me to be an “enemy” and refuses to talk to me.
It’s not until I confront my neighbor about her moans that I realize that they’re the same person.
And she’s been keeping a dirty, audiobook narrator secret…
My Enemy Next Door is a super fun, contemporary novella about two former college “enemies.”
It is best read and experienced over a cup of coffee.
To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing this letter to formally announce my resignation from Parker International (& the arrogant, condescending CEO) effective two weeks from today.
This was a VERY EASY decision to make, as the past two years have been utterly miserable. I wish his next executive assistant all the luck in the world (she'll need it) and if my boss should need me to do anything over the next two weeks, kindly tell him that he can do it [his] goddamn self...
Sincerely (Not Really),
That's the version of my two weeks' notice I should've sent to my boss, because the more professional version--the one where I said I was "grateful for all the opportunities," and "honored by all the rewarding experiences" over the years.
That letter was rejected with his sexy, trademark smirk and an "I highly suggest you read the fine print of your contract..."
So, I did.
And now I've realized that unless I fake my death, poison him, or find a way to renegotiate my impossible contract, I'm stuck working under one of the cockiest and most ruthless bosses in New York.
Then again, I thought that was the case until he called me late last night with an emergency proposition...
Please leave your message at the sound of the beep…
Penelope, I know that it’s three o’clock in the morning, but I need to get this off my chest.
I can’t give you any more advice on landing this other guy, can’t tell you another “sexy” thing that you should do, or suggest a new set of filthy words that you should text him late at night.
As your best friend, I’ve reached my limit, and I can honestly say that he doesn’t deserve you.
I’m not saying all of this because I’m fucking jealous, or because he had the audacity to say that he makes more money than me. (I still can’t find his name on the Forbes 500 list, and I know damn well that he’s renting that Ferrari, but that’s a story for a different day.)
He’s not who you think he is, and the better man has always been right in front of you…
You have every reason to never give me a chance since you know me better than anyone, and you agree with all the tabloids calling me The Cocky King of New York, and the Untamed Playboy of Manhattan. But I honestly believe that you’re better off with someone else, and I need you to see.
I’m not asking for too much…
I just want you to break up with him, for me.
Empire of Lies
Newlywed Heiress Gone Without a Trace
Husband Pleads with Media, Begs for Wife's Return
Woman Vanishes after Wedding
Those headlines are lying...
My wife is currently in the backseat of my car. She's wrapped tightly in rope with her wrists bound, unable to speak since her mouth is covered with layers of duct tape.
I kidnapped her...
This is the second time that she's tried to escape, so I did what was best.
Yes, those are tears falling from her eyes.
Yes, she's struggling to scream and tell me how much she hates me.
I can't focus on that, though...
I've already messed up by falling for her, but ultimately, she's nothing more than a pawn in a twisted game of chess.
And she never would've said "I do" if she knew what was next ...
The man I fell in love with is a walking contradiction...
He's sexy as hell, yet infuriating.
Hopelessly in love with me, but carefully plotting my demise.
He's seen me cry and beg a few times, heard me crown him as the "king of lies."
Well, I fooled him...
I'm the queen.
We're in this together--lie for lie, truth for truth.
We've both been damaged by our pasts, both left terrified of building a future...
Still, there's a sliver of hope.
If one of us is willing to fold first...
He's the king of lies, I'm the queen, and together we're going to build one hell of a legacy.
I can’t believe that I pulled my boss’s name for our company’s annual Secret Santa tradition…
As the devil incarnate, this infuriating, cocky bastard never gives us the holidays off, and he honestly expects us to be grateful for his generous alternative: The Office Party.
It’s a mandatory, all-expenses-paid trip for two weeks at a surprise luxury resort—where we still have to work twelve to fifteen hours a day.
I’m so over this…
So, I put zero percent effort into his gift. I tear the tag off whatever my sister gifts me, add a five-dollar amazon gift card, and hand it off to him.
It’s not until my sister sends me a text that I realize how terrible of a decision that was.
Georgia: Why haven’t you sent me a 'LOL' about the brand-new vibrator I got you? I really do hope that you use your boss’s face as a muse, like my note says.
If that’s not bad enough, this year’s "luxury trip" will be in my hometown--the place I've avoided for years. At the resort that my grandmother owns...
If the universe gets me out of this, I will never ‘regift’ anything ever again…
Melody Carter is New York's harshest movie critic, but she's always had a soft spot for romantic comedies--especially the ones where the "groom to be" ends up leaving his "bride to be" at the altar for the "real love" of his life.
Unfortunately, at her own wedding, the three hundred thousand dollar wedding of her dreams, she finds herself playing the very character she never thought twice about: the jilted bride. Hurt and confused, she seriously doubts she'll ever find love again. Will a chance encounter with an unlikely suitor erase her doubts?
Matt Sterling is Hollywood's latest heartthrob. He's sexy, charming, and hopelessly stuck in a "staged for the paparazzi" relationship with fellow A-list actress Selena Ross. Although all of America loves him, and studios are waiting in line to cast him in their movies, he can't seem to shake the incessant negative reviews from New York's most lauded critic, Melody Carter--the woman who single-handedly influences New York City's box office. Angered by her most recent review, he storms her office and finds a lot more than what he bargained for.
Mid Life Love
Claire Gracen's life is picture perfect. Her career as a marketing director is on the brink of being legendary, and her marriage to her high school sweetheart has never been stronger. No, wait. It has. It used to be amazing and fulfilling, but one day Claire realizes that she's been living a lie and her best friend and husband have committed the ultimate betrayal.
Broken and depressed, Claire is in need of something new—new city, new job, new friends. When she happens to attract the interest of the sexiest man she's ever met, a man significantly younger than her, she immediately turns him down—only to later discover that this man is Jonathan Statham, self-made billionaire and CEO of Statham Industries. Her boss.
Jonathan Statham is unlike any man she's met before. He's used to getting whatever he wants—whenever he wants, and he isn't about to take no for an answer. Sexy, unpredictable, and charmingly clever, Mid Life Love is a story that will captivate you, entertain you, and force you to fall deeply in love with the characters.
Naughty Bedroom Collection
It all started with a sex scene...
Well, I was failing to write a sex scene.
As an author of over fifty smut books, I was struggling to do what I did best. So, for fun, I asked one of my best online friends for some help.
I really shouldn't have done that...
He wrote the scene far better than I ever could, and seven months of platonic, yet-flirty friendship were wiped away in ten minutes.
He asked to meet me in person...
We'd previously agreed to keep things digital, to remain faceless friends--since he was forty-two, and I was twenty-six, but neither of us could resist.
When I saw him at the airport, I was instantly attracted to him.
But I knew, right then and there, that we could never be.
Turns out that the man I'd been talking to for the past several months is the last person I expected.
The last person I should ever think about...
He's my dad's best friend.
It all started with a sext message ...
Well, it actually "ended," but that's a story for another day.
Freshly divorced, I decide to spend a week at a luxury retreat for singles.
I should've known better ...
The only man I manage to "meet" is my massage therapist, who is way too young for me, but that doesn't stop him from pursuing me at the resort.
He makes it all too tempting, all too easy to say yes.
Thankfully, I manage to check out without giving in, but he shows up at my doorstep days later to finish what we started.
The thing is, his age isn't the only problem between us.
He's also my best friend's younger brother...
We met on a Tuesday.
Became best friends, then lovers, on a Tuesday.
And everything fell apart on a Tuesday...
Charlotte Taylor has three automatic strikes in my book: 1) She hates me. She also claims that I'm a "domineering jerk with a huge, overbearing ego." (I do have something huge. It's not my ego, though.) 2) She takes our mandatory tutoring sessions way too seriously. 3) She's sexy as hell...And a virgin.
At least, those were her strikes before our study sessions started lasting longer than they were supposed to. Until one innocent kiss became a hundred dirty ones, and until she became the first woman I ever fell hard for.
Our future together after graduation was supposed to be set:
Professional football for me. Law school for her.
But she left me at the end of the semester with no explanation, and then she completely disappeared from my life.
We met on a Tuesday.
Became everything, then nothing, on a Tuesday.
And now it's seven years later, on a Tuesday...
We met on a Wednesday.
Became enemies, then lovers, on a Wednesday.
And we made a final promise before saying good-bye, on a Wednesday....
Kyle Stanton is the cockiest playboy who has ever set foot on this university’s campus.
He’s also the last person on earth that I want to interview for my senior thesis since:
I haven’t forgotten how he left me hanging for a group project during our freshman year.
He has a tendency to believe that any woman who breathes in his direction wants him.
Did I mention how infuriatingly cocky he is?
If I hear him utter the phrase “No need to stare, I’ll let you ride it up close and personal, just say the word” one more time, I will scream.
At least, those are my initial impressions until he proposes “a perfect deal” that works in our best interest. Until one filthy kiss changes everything, and he shows me a side of himself that makes me fall in love.
We only have one semester left together, though....
He’s bound for the professional football league, and I’m bound for London.
We promise to remain long-distance “friends”, but a brutal argument tears us apart, and we haven’t spoken to each other since.
We met on a Wednesday.
Became everything, then nothing, on a Wednesday.
And now he’s shown up to my engagement party, all these years later, on a Wednesday....
One dinner. One night. No repeats.
As a high profile lawyer, I don't have time to waste on relationships, so I fulfill my needs by anonymously chatting and sleeping with women I meet online.
My rules are simple: This is only casual sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.
At least it was, until "Alyssa"...
She was supposed to be a 27 year old lawyer, a book hoarder, and completely unattractive. She was supposed to be someone I shared law advice with late at night, someone I could trust with details of my weekly escapades.
But then she came into my firm for an interview--a college-intern interview, and everything changed ...
She lied to me...
She betrayed the one rule that I'm most adamant about: Honesty. Complete and utter fucking honesty.
I really wish she was someone else—someone who didn't have the ability to make me feel, someone I could easily discard like the hundreds of women before her.
I'm drawn to her like I've never been drawn to a woman before—completely captivated by the very sight of her. But unfortunately, with my past slowly re-surfacing for all of the world to see, I'll have to find a way to let her go.
She can never be mine.
I hate him…
I hate that I fell in love with him, I hate that he didn’t love me back, and I hate the fact that I just made a life-altering decision just so I could get the hell away from him.
He’d always said that he was unchangeable, heartless, and cold…
I really should’ve believed him…
The complete New York Times Bestselling serial, now available in one book!
My cock has an appetite. A huge and very particular appetite: Blonde, curvy, and preferably not a fucking liar...(Although, that's a story for another day.) As a high profile lawyer, I don't have time to waste on relationships, so I fulfill my needs by anonymously chatting and sleeping with women I meet online.
My rules are simple: One dinner. One night. No repeats. This is only casual sex. Nothing more. Nothing less. At least it was, until "Alyssa"...She was supposed to be a 27 year old lawyer, a book hoarder, and completely unattractive. She was supposed to be someone I shared law advice with late at night, someone I could trust with details of my weekly escapades. But then she came into my firm for an interview--a college-intern interview, and everything fucking changed...
Just friends. We’re just friends. No, really. She’s just my best friend.
Arizona Turner has been my best friend since fourth grade, even when we “hated” each other. We’ve been there for one another through first kisses, first “times,” and we’ve been each other’s constant when good relationships turned bad. (We even went to colleges that were minutes away from each other…)
Throughout the years, and despite what anyone says, we’ve never crossed the line. Never thought about it. Never wanted to.
Until one night changed everything.
At least, it should’ve ...
We’re just friends.
I’m only saying this until I figure out if she’s still “just” my best friend…
I've always hated her.
She's always hated me.
We've never been friends, just the best of enemies...
I've hated Rachel Dawson since I was seven years old. My next door neighbor and number one sworn enemy, she's the reason why almost all of our childhood fights ended with me setting something of hers on fire. (Or, vice versa.)
She snitched on me when I broke curfew.
I snitched on her when she lied about having a boyfriend.
We went back and forth like this throughout high school, both vowing to never talk to each other again when we went off to college. But that was until she showed up at my apartment during my senior year and asked me for a temporary place to stay.
Until living with her day after day became unbearable, and one passionate argument changed everything. Well, almost everything.
I've always hated her.
She's always hated me.
I'm not sure what the hell is happening, and I can't tell if we're still "enemies"...
He definitely wasn't supposed to get that email ...
Subject: My Boss.
Have I already told you that I hate my boss today?
Sexy as hell or not, this pompous, arrogant ASSHOLE asked me to pick up his dry cleaning the second I walked through the door. Then he told me that I needed to take his Jaguar to a car wash that was ten miles outside of the city, but only after I needed to stand in a never-ending line to buy some type of limited, hundred-dollar watch.
I honestly can't wait to see the look on his face two months from now when I tell him that I'm quitting his company and that he can kiss my ass. KISS. MY. ASS.
All those former fantasies about him kissing me with his "mouth of perfection" or bending me over my desk and filling me with his cock are long over. OVER.
P.S. Please tell me your day is going better than mine.
Subject: Re: My Boss.
No, you haven't already told me that you hate your boss today, but seeing as though you've sent me this email directly, I know now.
Yes, I did ask you to pick up my dry cleaning the second you arrived at work today. (Where is it?) And I did tell you to take my Jaguar to the car wash and pick up my thousand-dollar watch. (Thank you for taking five hours to do something that could be accomplished in two.)
You don't have to wait two months from now to see the look on my face when you tell me you're quitting. I'm standing outside your office at this very moment. (Open the door.)
No comment on your "fantasies," although I highly doubt they're "long over."
P.S. Yes. My day is definitely going far better than yours.
"Lean back on the table and spread your legs for me ..."
Being a doctor in New York City has never been easy. Especially for someone like me, who has a private practice and an incompetent staff who insists on leaving me to fill in for them.
Over the past six months, I've performed one too many pap smears, three too many "breast exams," and scrubbed in on several reconstructive surgeries. (This would be acceptable, if I was still interested in general medicine, but I'm not. I'm supposed to be a goddamn therapist ...)
When my team finally came to their senses and decided to bring someone more competent into the practice last month, I was actually elated.
Until I realized that our new "doctor" was none other than the woman I was supposed to meet for dinner two weeks ago. The same woman who stood me up with nothing more than an "I can't meet you anymore, sorry," after we agreed to move our online talks into reality.
I haven't forgotten any of the filthy fantasies she told me about, and I never deleted our dirty messages. And if she thinks that I'm going to act like a "professional" and pretend like that shit never happened, she has another thing coming ...
Today is officially the worst day of my life…
I woke up five hours late after a reckless one-night stand with the sexiest, cockiest, and most arrogant man I’ve ever met. (And this asshole actually left a note: “I think you were lying to me about being “experienced” last night. You orgasmed three times, and that was before we made it to your bedroom. I also find it hard to believe you “usually wear silk or lingerie.” Your drawers are all full of cotton granny panties--The best man you’ve ever fucked…)
My top two clients for my PR company left to my number one competitor, my roommate ‘accidentally’ bleached my favorite suit, and my favorite coffee shop was shut down for “health concerns.”
Still, none of those things dimmed my excitement for what was supposed to be the best four o’clock signing session of my career. I was on the verge of signing the highest paying client in my company’s history, taking on a so-called “impossible” job that no publicist had been able to handle.
But at four o’clock, there was no athlete, television personality, or celebrity. Instead, that sexy, arrogant one-night stand stepped into my office with a familiar smirk and introduced himself as my new, cocky client…