Christmas is bad enough without all the music, frantic shopping sprees, and holiday parties. So many parties… with people you couldn’t stand in high school and definitely can’t stand now. Top of the list? Patty Harrison. She made my teen years miserable and, now that we’re adults, she’s trying to get me banned from the Christmas market. Even so, I’m not going to commit literal murder.

I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!

When your grandmother stalks the star hockey player on the rival team because “You need a husband, Dakota—you’re not getting any younger!” it’s Christmas crazy on ice.

As your paralegal (and ex), I have to be honest: You’re a horrible lawyer. Honestly, the worst I’ve ever seen. You never communicate, you pile on overtime, and you’re constantly in a bad mood. Now, about those panties on your desk. No, that wasn’t a desperate cry for your attention. It was the result of a lost bet with my roommate. But if you were even half the lawyer you claim to be, you’d have figured that out without all the ego-tripping.

Welcome to life as a wedding planner for the rich and entitled of Manhattan. I’ve seen it all - from the nastiest bridezilla to the most overindulged billionaire. And Evan is the worst. Tall, dark, and handsome, he has a ridiculously ripped body under his formal suit and runs a massive hedgefund that’s actively making the world a worse place. I don’t even feel sorry for him when he walks away from the alter in a daze

The only thing we have in common is that we’re both tall. He wears bespoke suits; I wear flats with holes in them. He runs a big shot investment firm; I’m trying to start my own company with only bubble gum and circus peanuts. He likes to show up at my horrible dates and ruin them; I…pretended I hated when he did that but secretly was thrilled even though it was a little young adult fiction.

A single dad, an underwear model, a baker, and baseball-loving former boy band member find love with four fun, incredible women in this compilation of the first three books and a spin-off from Pippa Grant’s Copper Valley Bro Code romantic comedy series.

Callahan Hastings is relentless when it comes to getting what he wants, and what he wants is me–to be his private chef in the Hamptons for the summer. My dream job served to me on a silver platter by one of the wealthiest members of Pembroke Hills Country Club. The only catch? He’s my ex-boyfriend’s older brother with a reputation for being as charming as he is cunning. But Cal doesn’t take no for an answer. He draws you in with flirty smiles and extravagant promises.

As a scruffy, disorganised daydreamer, Lucy Mayweather is like a fish out of water at the high-powered offices of her brother’s billionaire best friend. When she agreed to work for Felix, she had no idea quite how cut-throat his world–or he–would be. She just wanted to escape her reclusive life and be close to her childhood crush, hoping he might notice her. But Lucy’s lonelier in London than she’s even been in her tiny village back home.

In my perfect world, it would always be winter and never Christmas. I despise the holiday. I hate carols, shopping, and pretending to be a perfect family. I walked away from my family, or rather, they walked away from me. My heart is like ice. See it creeping up the walls. Oh, wait, no, that’s royal icing.

I can still pinpoint the exact second when my life became two truths and a lie. You don't forget delivering a mountain of fresh-baked sweets to a man like Dexter Rory. I never wanted to see his scowling, bossy, brutally godlike face again, no matter how well he tipped. If you told me I'd wind up wearing his ring, I would've died laughing. But here I am, trying to cling to my sanity while I confront the undeniable.

There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t date Fletcher Huxley. He’s a growly-faced, stubborn-streaked, international rugby legend trying to revive his flailing career in the US after being canned by his team overseas. While he might have the good kind of thunder thighs, intriguing tattoos, and a booty of steel, he also holds the top position on my very short nemesis list thanks to what happened the first time we met.

Worth is charming, dependable, and every bit the perfect gentleman. But the moment he lays eyes on Sophia, his carefully controlled world shatters. She's the one he didn't know he was waiting for, and now? He'll do whatever it takes to make her his.

I made a deal with my brother a long time ago to never date his teammates. Technically, Rowan Landry, the hot as hell center for the Chicago Falcons, is no longer my brother’s teammate. Or his best friend. Their college days are long behind them, and they barely talk now. Also, I’m not dating him—we’re just sleeping together. There’s a difference.

I'm not the kind of girl who has one-night stands. Except...I did. What can I say? After a few drinks with a gorgeous man who made me feel alive for the first time since losing my mom, I was powerless to say no. And I didn't regret it. Not one minute of our hot, mind-melting night together. But he wasn't a forever kind of guy. So I walked away. I wasn't supposed to ever see him again. Then I did. Turns out my sexy one-night stand is Dr. Jacob Mitchell - and he's the cardiothoracic surgeon who just saved my dad's life.

I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!

When your grandmother stalks the star hockey player on the rival team because “You need a husband, Dakota—you’re not getting any younger!” it’s Christmas crazy on ice.

I kept smiling when I caught my fiancé coming down my sister’s chimney on Christmas Eve. I gave polite congratulations when they got engaged. And I even offered to help decorate for their Christmas wedding despite the fact that was supposed to be my dream wedding. But when my sister cuts up my great-grandmother’s one-hundred-year-old wedding dress and turns it into a skank show, even though that was the dress I was going to wear on my wedding day? Well, this elf is torching down the North Pole.

Bianca De Lucci has always been obsessed with Sandro Rossi. He was the hero of her girlish dreams and the dream man of her adolescence. But no matter how much she showed him she wanted more, he always treated her like a younger sister. In one tragic night, she pushes her obsession too far, and someone dear to her pays the price. Sandro becomes the enemy, and she wishes for him to burn in hell like the rest of his family.

Welcome to life as a wedding planner for the rich and entitled of Manhattan. I’ve seen it all - from the nastiest bridezilla to the most overindulged billionaire. And Evan is the worst. Tall, dark, and handsome, he has a ridiculously ripped body under his formal suit and runs a massive hedgefund that’s actively making the world a worse place. I don’t even feel sorry for him when he walks away from the alter in a daze

Armed with comfy pants, overpriced coffee, and a highly anxious emotional-support corgi, I prepare to face him. Corporate boss. Villain. Salinger Svensson. I step into his office. His perfect mouth twists into a sneer. There is no heart of gold beneath that suit, just a big black pit. He’s a shark in the frothy waters of high-stakes finance. He might be the archetypal-asshole CEO, causing all in his path to quake in fear, but he’s never had to face down a basic bitch in her thirties.

When you kiss your perfect boyfriend under the mistletoe...only for your cousin scream to the family that you stole her man, you realize that you will never again have a merry Christmas. In my defense, I didn’t know my boss—yup, boss. Buckle up because this is messy—was my cousin’s newly minted and totally lying fiancé. I thought he was the Nutcracker Prince come to finally show my family that I, too, was worthy of putting the star atop the Christmas tree.

Rules are meant to be broken. Except for one: Women can't get enough peonies. Even the girl in front of me in line is admiring the peonies in my hand. While I need these particular flowers for my latest plot, I'll still give Meghan the biggest, thickest bouquet I can find. It's flattering how much she wants my peonies. And I don't mind personally delivering.

You know that post-vacation glow? Where you’re all sun-kissed and optimistic and determined to make changes in your life? Well, mine lasted for about five minutes. Until I walked into the office and saw Myles Salinger sitting in my boss’s chair. One look at his scowling face was enough to make me want to fly straight back to Europe. And no, he’s not getting any of the donuts I brought in for the team. He doesn’t deserve them. You see, on paper, he’s my contemporary. In reality, he’s been my workplace nemesis for the last two years.

I never thought I’d be a runaway bride. But when it came down to it, I just couldn’t marry the wrong man. So, I ran. And somehow, I ended up in Star Falls, Colorado—stranded, no luggage, no plan—in a wedding dress with a past I’d rather forget. Fate lands me in the only available rental in town, a cozy little cabin… right next door to Byron Miller, the brooding billionaire who wants nothing to do with me. Or this town.

He hired me to capture his soul on canvas. I never expected to hand him my own. I’m Sienna Vale—an artist who reads people with a single brushstroke. My latest commission: Nico Moretti, Dallas’s reclusive “philanthropist.” One look at him and every color on my palette turns to danger. His mother wants a portrait. Nico wants me. The FBI wants dirt on his empire—using my studio as the perfect listening post. Now I’m trapped between the man who ruins me with a glance and the agents who can ruin us both. If I spy on Nico I could finally learn what really happened to my family. If ...

Unhinged. Charming. Dangerous. The brother of the man I’m prosecuting and now my stalker. I didn’t know Eoghan O’Rourke was a lawyer for the Irish Mob when I tried to put his brother in jail. And I shouldn’t have gotten drunk and yelled at him. I certainly shouldn’t have gone home with him. But I needed to get rid of my V-Card and a gorgeous mafia man who would never fall for a curvy womanlike me is the perfect one and done. Boy, was I wrong. Eoghan turns obsessed, jealous, and unhinged. I’m a prosecutor. He’s a criminal. We have nothing in common.

I’ve never met someone so determined to piss me off. Soren Brehm thinks he’s my personal hero because he has something I need, but he can’t solve all my problems with a wicked smile and a spacious second bedroom. Not until I get past his football star façade and realize he sees me, really sees me. I don’t need saving—but maybe I need him.

In my perfect world, it would always be winter and never Christmas. I despise the holiday. I hate carols, shopping, and pretending to be a perfect family. I walked away from my family, or rather, they walked away from me. My heart is like ice. See it creeping up the walls. Oh, wait, no, that’s royal icing.

They say never mix business with pleasure. As a single father, and the captain of the Seattle Sasquatches, I’m adamant to keep every corner of my life separate and running perfectly. That is, until Indie Decker walked into my life. She’s the team owner's little sister, my new nanny, and so completely out of my league. Our first encounter? Pure fire, clashing wills with a passion that ensnared us both. Our second? A tentative truce, maybe even a budding friendship. But at some point, we slid recklessly into a 'friends with benefits' arrangement, thinking we could stay casual.