Marshal Howard is a death wish wrapped in mystery. Cold, rude, insanely overprotective single dad. Everyone in our little town warned me to stay far, far away. I didn't listen. I answered the castoff's nanny ad because no one else would. I got too close. I saw through his vicious reputation. He's a man who's turning my heart inside out, making me a fool. If it was just the bad blood with him and my family, maybe we'd work through this. Maybe we'd find paradise. Just me, him, and that adorable little girl. But surprises come in threes. Like the lines on the pregnancy test.

My fresh start turned into a dumpster fire. Awesome new job. Small town heaven. Friendly faces galore. Then I strolled into my new home and found the unspeakable. Just when I'm sure it can't get worse, I'm “rescued” by a man who makes me see red for miles. Enter Lucas Graves. A bossy grump with a badge who's sworn to keep me safe. He rocks the scary-hot vibe, he reads too much, and he never misses a chance to give me crap for being a nerdy little cactus who mouths back. Not the type of man I'd go for in my right mind. Definitely not the type I should keep trading bruising kisses with.

My “interview” with bosshole supreme was anything but normal. He picked the worst day ever to chase me off my favorite park bench. I retaliated with a spray of cinnamon latte all over his Italian shoes. Then - for some unholy reason - Magnus Heron offered me a job.

Bossy. Heart of stone. Snarly mess next door. Send help before I'm prick-matized.... My next big mistake has a name. Warren Ford. Best kept secret in this weird little town. An alpha's alpha. Spartan abs. Too blunt for everybody's good. Moody, broody, mysterious, and totally up in my business.

He never bothered with hello. The shrieking hot stranger had me dizzy the instant he said we're engaged. Then he chased off the bully on our heels and dragged me back to his place for the night. Pure insanity, right? Wrong. You don't let pride do the talking when you're homeless, on the run, and hauling around your sick father in a truck so old it must've been on Noah's Ark. You definitely don't complain when Ridge Barnet takes charge. (In)famous heartthrob. Stinking rich. Fed up owner of one angry rooster. Eyes set to permanent storm.

It was one freaking kiss with a stranger. I wasn't looking for a hero the day Brent Eden charged into my life. He saw a damsel in distress facing humiliation. We played pretend. Swore I was his. Baited sweet chaos. Blew apart everything. My dating disaster? Gone. Our kiss? Electric. Divine. Toe-curling. His mistake? Oh, boy. Dropping the ultimate F-bomb: fiancée. Especially when my gossipy cousin tells the whole family.

I just ran into the girl who got away. Holding a hate letter addressed to me. And now we're stranded in an elevator. Last time we kissed, it was final. I wasn't supposed to see her again. Not in this city. On this elevator. The moment it craps out, stranding us overnight with animal cravings and fencing lies. Last time we kissed, how could we know our next might truly, madly, beautifully restore us?

I’ve sworn off men to focus on my dream job that starts on Monday. But my best friend talks me into a final night of fun—a blind date. I only agree because the guy is going to work as a doctor in Africa. It’s the best date of my life. Dr. Africa makes me laugh and swoon, and I want to give him a thorough physical examination. He turns into Dr. One Night Stand, and I’m not sad about it. Monday morning, I’m enthusiastic and excited, until I bump into...you guessed it.

His proposal came in a little black envelope with 13 unlucky words: You still owe me that favor, doll, and I'm cashing in. Marry me. In a normal life, I'd never get hitched to Calvin Randolph. Not with his heart-stopping blue eyes, infamous player reputation, and an ego bigger than the part of his anatomy he loves boasting about the most. Been there, done that. All except the last part, which he's left to my shameful imagination for seven years apart. Of course, the fake fiancée contract I just signed is anything but normal.

My biological clock just exploded. Eighteen months. That's how long I have to make a baby happen before it becomes one more broken dream. Fate has a sick sense of humor, though. Its name is Hayden Shaw. Yes, the Hayden Shaw. Billionaire developer, scandalously gorgeous, his hard-headed ego only eclipsed by his enormous...reputation. He needs a bride to fool the world. I need a baby. It's simple business. Strictly professional.

I loved her like a sister forever ago. Before life served us tragedy with a bitter cherry on top. Before I learned love isn't a damn fairy tale. Before I became a single dad. Protecting my little girl is all I still care about. Kendra is my lifeline if she'll just play along. Her job is easy. Wear my ring. Turn my scowl into a family man's smile. Help save my daughter from a scorched earth custody fight. She gets the Cinderella treatment in return. My money, my mansion, my reputation. Simple. Painless. Mutual.

Working as Ruslan Oryolov’s personal assistant is the job from hell. After a long day spent tending to the billionaire’s every whim, I need some stress relief. So when I get home that night, that’s exactly what I do. Problem is, my thoughts are still stuck on the bosshole, who’s ruining my life. That’s fine—because of all Ruslan’s many sins, being gorgeous might be the most dangerous.

Holt Sebastian is royalty in our world. As CEO of the Sebastian News Corp, he’s the man with all the power. The man who decides if I’ll always just be a local television anchor or if I’ll be the rising star of my own show.

I was a small-town girl with big city dreams and more ambition than money to my name. He had everything—money, privilege, and the world at his feet. Opposites in every way, but that didn’t matter. We were lightning in a bottle, and everything felt possible when we were together. Life was perfect.

I used to believe love was easy to find. My whirlwind romance would begin once I was ready to take the plunge. Spoiler alert—every failed first date on record suggests otherwise. Just when I’m beginning to fault my lofty standards, Garrett Foster saunters onto the scene. The football star turned bar owner is quick to volunteer his services. He vows to deliver the best version of Mr. Right—just to prove first impressions deserve a second glance.

I can feel it. I wake up in the middle of the night freaked out of my mind, paranoid a stranger is there. My skin prickles every time I leave my house, because I know someone is following me. I’m afraid. Alone. And there’s only one person left to turn to. The stepbrother I never met. He’s the president of a notorious motorcycle club and exactly the kind of person I need to protect me - cutthroat, cocky, dangerous. Little did I know, hot as all holy hell Ky Parish, downright loathes me. You know what they say - there's a fine line between love and hate. And I'm walking it.

His proposal came in a little black envelope with 13 unlucky words: You still owe me that favor, doll, and I'm cashing in. Marry me. In a normal life, I'd never get hitched to Calvin Randolph. Not with his heart-stopping blue eyes, infamous player reputation, and an ego bigger than the part of his anatomy he loves boasting about the most. Been there, done that. All except the last part, which he's left to my shameful imagination for seven years apart. Of course, the fake fiancée contract I just signed is anything but normal.

It was one freaking kiss with a stranger. I wasn't looking for a hero the day Brent Eden charged into my life. He saw a damsel in distress facing humiliation. We played pretend. Swore I was his. Baited sweet chaos. Blew apart everything. My dating disaster? Gone. Our kiss? Electric. Divine. Toe-curling. His mistake? Oh, boy. Dropping the ultimate F-bomb: fiancée. Especially when my gossipy cousin tells the whole family.

Matthew Hansen is the kind of handsome that has grown women whispering behind their hands and giggling like schoolgirls. Dark, tall and mysterious, he's a newcomer to our little town. He's a gritty, grease-covered mechanic, and a single daddy. Sweet, right? Plus, he's looking for a nanny - and I am desperately looking for a job. Sounds like the perfect deal. Only he's a jerk. An uncivilized, hulking brute. Zero manners. Zero interest in making me feel welcome in his home. Downright rude. But oh, so sexy. And I need the job. I can do this.

Nothing can end before it begins. My beginning started with the death of my best friend. And the kid he left behind...I had no idea what to do. But I made a promise. Jenkins was my responsibility. But he wasn't the only one I had. Raising a kid while being the president of the Ruthless Kings MC? The club had as much influence over him as I did.

Hit me. Kick me. Hurt me. Hate me. There’s nothing that the students of Raleigh High can do to Silver Parisi anymore. Over the past year, she’s had to endure more pain and suffering than most people are asked to bear in their lifetimes. She’s a pariah, an outcast, a ghost. She’s also never been one to take shit lying down, though...despite what half the football team might say. With only 168 days left of the school year, it won’t be long until graduation, and Silver’s planning on skipping town and leaving Raleigh firmly in her rearview mirror. Until he comes along....

Anything can be fixed with a little Duct Tape and sass... At least that's what celebrity fixer, Delilah Donovan, used to think. She prides herself on being able to handle anything. But when she's asked to fix the new CEO of Synth Games, she never dreams she'll come face to face with the only man to ever break her heart. The past can't always be fixed... When a friend calls in a long ago favor, reformed hacker, Nate Williams, worries that his shady past will come back to haunt him.

Like currency, I’ve become part of a transaction. Blade took me to pay off a debt. I try to tell myself, Eve, you should hate him. He’s a bad guy. But then again, I’m not a good girl. Blade’s the president of the Disciples, the notorious motorcycle club. I should be frightened, yet somehow, he doesn’t scare me. If anything, I think I scare him.

I deal with highs and lows, but somehow, I end up making the best of it. My family disowned me, but family is the reason why I’m in Vegas. Even with my inability to think straight, I end up being in charge of a bunch of runaway mental patients. Hence, The Asylum. A sanctuary for lost causes. Where crazy can roam free, and compulsions can be let loose. My nephew says as long as it stays at The Asylum, we won’t have problems. What fun would it be if problems didn’t exist? And my problem is in the shape of a dancer, twirling on the front lawn in the middle of the night.

One look, and panties drop. One night, and they're ready to marry me. Too bad I'm not interested in anything more than a taste. Until I'm tempted by Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. She's a good girl, the kind I want to possess, dominate, ruin. No one's ever told me no, and I'm not about to let it stop me now.

Football star and Internet sensation Gavin "Anaconda" Adams is the biggest celebrity our little town has ever seen. But I had no idea who he was when I accidentally walked in on him naked. I was shocked, seeing all of him, a cocky grin on his face. I didn't know what to do. So I ran. No matter what I do, I can't get that image out of my head. To make matters worse, Gavin wants a date with me.

After getting tangled up in Carnage business, it isn’t long before I'm tangled up in their sheets. They see is my blonde hair and sweet smile, and they want to dirty me up a little. I'm a splash of pink within the leather-clad army, standing out like a tampon in a condom factory. But it’s not my fault they underestimated me. I might like girly things, but I’m much more likely to spray you with bullets then sprinkle you with glitter. I could just tell them they have me labeled all wrong...but where’s the fun in that?

It's been 12 years since Tru Bennett last saw Jake Wethers, her former best friend and boy she once loved. Jake Wethers, sexy, tattooed, and deliciously bad lead singer, and brains behind The Mighty Storm, one of biggest bands in the world, left Tru with a broken heart when he moved from England to America with his family when they were both 14. Sent to interview Jake for her music column by the magazine she works for, they are both unprepared for the sparks that fly the instant they reconnect.

As an ex-Navy SEAL there are a few guarantees in life. Avoiding relationships is one of them. Dealing with PTSD is another. So when I come across the Reckless Bastards MC, it’s perfect for a man like me. Last thing I expect is to encounter Jana Carter at a painting class. Don’t ask why I was there. I can hardly keep my eyes off of her. She’s a shy, sultry vixen, and she grabs ahold of me so hard, I can’t let go.

There's an animal in me that I keep hidden. Beth calls to him. She tempts the monster and lures him to the surface. I'm obsessed with her. I can't stay away, even when doing so puts my entire club in danger. Her blood is on my hands. I formed her to fit only me. I was her first and if I have to kill everyone in our way. So be it. I will be her last. She is mine.

Eleanor Lark is an upbeat illustrator plagued by headaches and unruly strawberry blonde hair. After a grueling cross-country flight, she blacks out cold. The brooding stranger who sat next to her grumping his way through the flight catches Elle as she falls. Neither expects the sweet chaos that happens next. August Marshall is stonehearted, insanely rich, and a master of corporate cleanups with major baggage of his own. The last man alive who needs a media frenzy after his airport heroics steal headlines. But August has a plan—ask Elle to marry him so their trouble disappears.

Bossy. Heart of stone. Snarly mess next door. Send help before I'm prick-matized.... My next big mistake has a name. Warren Ford. Best kept secret in this weird little town. An alpha's alpha. Spartan abs. Too blunt for everybody's good. Moody, broody, mysterious, and totally up in my business.

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.

His proposal came in a little black envelope with 13 unlucky words: You still owe me that favor, doll, and I'm cashing in. Marry me. In a normal life, I'd never get hitched to Calvin Randolph. Not with his heart-stopping blue eyes, infamous player reputation, and an ego bigger than the part of his anatomy he loves boasting about the most. Been there, done that. All except the last part, which he's left to my shameful imagination for seven years apart. Of course, the fake fiancée contract I just signed is anything but normal.

I never knew what hit me. Rex stormed into my little world with two adorable twin boys and no apologies. Bearish. Short-fused. Consuming. Huge. Torturously gorgeous. Leave-your-heart-in-pieces wrong. Did I mention HUGE? He's instant trouble the second he checks into our lodge and my overprotective grandpa hires him. Then I catch him staring with that knowing ache in his eyes. I forget what trouble even means. He also needs a nanny. Sold.