The last time I saw my new colleague, she was on top of me. Literally. She’s my best friend’s sister. It might have been a hot onetime fling at his wedding. Maybe....

The lake might be cold, but this thing between us is white hot. My best friend’s little sister. You know, the one that’s off limits. And she has been since we were kids. But that ain’t saying I wasn’t looking. She’s all grown up now and hotter than sin.

Get married. Have a child. These are the only two rules to get my inheritance. Neither of which I want. My billionaire life doesn’t play well with either idea. But no one asked me. My father’s company is up for grabs, and whichever of my brothers makes it to the finish line first wins. In no time, I’ve found the perfect woman to play my fake fiancée, while I figure things out. Beautiful. Smart. Strong. Everything I crave in a relationship and more. But there’s a problem. She’s got a past I can’t ignore.

A woman in the business of love that’s never been in a real relationship. Check. That’s me. Nessa Night. Now I know what you’re thinking. That sounds like a stripper name. Hold up. Let me explain. It’s my radio talk-show name. My incognito way of helping the world love deeper and more often. Though my love life is like a 10-year-old fall leaf trapped between the pages of an old journal.

I’m thinking it’s finally got to be my turn. I've got no man and no money. Nothing but a personality and a smile. But maybe that's enough this time. The richest guy in New York is looking for a secretary, and lucky for me, he’s young and as hot as sin. Too bad he’s an alpha asshole rich boy who’s stuck on himself. Nothing I do is right. Throw in a crazy ex and a father that can’t stand anything that breathes in his personal space, and I. Am. Out. He can find someone else to take notes and get his coffee. I’m fine being broke and single. I’ve gotten good at it.

My brother is an idiot - he’s getting married. And I’m in charge of getting things together since our folks are gone. Lucky me. The guy who thinks love is for the birds and worn-out '80s songs. I honestly don’t have time for this drama. I run a billion-dollar company, have women to entertain, and am working on my plans to rule the world. No, seriously.

As a kid, all I ever wanted to do was fly. I was born a pilot. And I’m the best fighter pilot in the world. They call me Dice because of my dicey aerial maneuvers. Safety and security aren’t my first concern. Living big is.

Nicholas Arthur Frederick Edward Pembrook, Crowned Prince of Wessco, aka His Royal Hotness, is wickedly charming, devastatingly handsome, and unabashedly arrogant - hard not to be when people are constantly bowing down to you. Then, one snowy night in Manhattan, the prince meets a dark-haired beauty who doesn't bow down. Instead she throws a pie in his face.

Enemies turn to lovers in this bad boy billionaire romance with a twist. I had a plan. Finish law school. Start a job. Stay away from men like Brandon Sterling. Cocky, overbearing, and richer than the Earth, he thinks the world belongs to him, and that includes me. Yeah, no. Think again. It doesn't matter that his blue eyes look straight into my soul, or that his touch melts my icy reserve. It doesn't even matter that past all that swagger, there's a beautiful, damaged man who has so much to offer beyond private planes and jewelry boxes. But I had a plan: no falling in love.

Delilah Green swore she would never go back to Bright Falls—nothing is there for her but memories of a lonely childhood where she was little more than a burden to her cold and distant stepfamily. Her life is in New York, with her photography career finally gaining steam and her bed never empty. Sure, it’s a different woman every night, but that’s just fine with her.

Rick Chapman is climbing to the top rung of his father's corporate ladder. Fulfilling Chapman Financial's contract at Cypress Corners, Florida will finally prove his value to the company. And to his father. But one endangered weed, and the pretty plant girl trying to save it, could really screw up his plans. Harmony Brooks loves her job as a plant conservationist at Cypress Corners, and the money she earns allows her to make up for a former boyfriend's betrayal.

I'm in the midst of scrawling "I quit!" onto his fancy cardstock letterhead when my boss corners me. He needs a favor, he says. And then he asks how well I can act. Hudson Rutherford needs a fiancée. With his old-moneyed parents forcing him to marry some bratty hotel heiress and his hedonistic, playboy lifestyle at stake, the only way to get them to back off is to make them think he's truly, madly, deeply in love...with me - his third personal assistant this year. But I can hardly stand working for him as it is.

My obsession was born of innocence and good intentions, and it began the day I spotted a handwritten journal lying in the bushes outside a townhouse on Lexington Avenue. It was raining sideways that morning, and my plan was to return it the next day, safe and dry. Only I kept it. I kept it, and I read it. A week later, overwhelmed with curiosity and feeling guilty for harboring secrets that didn't belong to me, I tried to return it. Only I wasn't expecting to meet him. Unapologetically heartless and enigmatically sexy, he claims he knows nothing about the journal.

Avery Bardot steps off the plane in Rome, looking for a fresh start. She's left behind a soon-to-be ex-husband in Boston and plans to spend the summer licking her wounds - and perhaps a gelato or two - with her best friend, Daisy. But when her American-expat friend throws her a welcome party on her first night, Avery's thrown for a loop when she sees a man she never thought she'd see again: Italian architect Marcello Bianchi.

A full-length standalone romantic comedy from USA TODAY best-selling author R.S. Grey. Beau Fortier starred in most of my cringe-worthy teenage fantasies. I met him when I was a junior in high school, a time that revolved exclusively around bad hair, failed forays into flirting, and scientific inquiries into which brand of toilet paper worked best for stuffing bras. That is, until Beau moved into the small guest house just beyond my bedroom window. A 24-year-old law student at Tulane, Beau was as mysterious to me as second base (both in baseball and in the bedroom).