BB Easton is the Wall Street Journal bestselling author of 44 CHAPTERS ABOUT 4 MEN, the hilarious, steamy, tell-all memoir that inspired the Netflix Original Series, SEX/LIFE. Within the first month, SEX/LIFE was viewed by 67 million households worldwide, making it the 3rd Most-Watched Netflix Original Series of all time.
BB was a stressed-out school psychologist and mother of two when the inspiration to write 44 CHAPTERS ABOUT 4 MEN struck. Through that process, she rediscovered her passion for writing, became dangerously sleep-deprived, and finally mustered enough courage to quit her job and become a full-time author.
BB went on to publish four more wickedly funny, shockingly steamy, and heartwarmingly autobiographical books in the 44 CHAPTERS world: SKIN, SPEED, STAR, and SUIT. Since then, she's been hard at work writing fictional stories that appeal to her love for us-against-the-world romance, including a dystopian trilogy (BAD BOYS DON’T DIE), a psychologist-client rom-com (GROUP THERAPY), and a dark mafia romance (DEVIL OF DUBLIN).
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Group Therapy
New AdultFrom the Wall Street Journal best-selling author of 44 Chapters About 4 Men (inspiration for the Netflix Original Series Sex/Life) comes a fun, forbidden romantic comedy about an inexperienced psychologist and her ultra-famous client.
I am thiiiis close to finally becoming a full-fledged psychologist. PhD? Check. Prestigious postdoc position, providing therapy to entitled millionaires and C-list celebrities whose pumpkin spice lattes cost more than my shoes and make excellent projectiles during their reality TV-worthy tantrums? 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 and whose face I might or might not picture while I…you get the point. Sitting in a confined space with him, inhaling the subtle scent of his cologne, gazing into his broody blue eyes while trying to remember to nod and listen and come up with suggestions that don’t involve taking our clothes off…it’s torture.
So, when Thomas casually asks me out at the end of a therapy session, I’m forced to make an impossible choice: say yes and risk losing my dream job, or say no and risk losing my dream guy. In a panic, I blurt out a third option—the only solution I can think of that will allow me to see this man after hours without it being considered a career-ending ethics violation: group therapy.
The only problem? I’ve never actually done group therapy. And side problem: My other clients are heathens. But what’s the worst that could happen? I mean, it’s not like I’m going lose all control of the group and let it devolve into a chaotic, bloodthirsty, topless fight club. Right?