Showing results by author "J.S. Cooper" in All Categories

Dear Remington Parker, You may think you're the handsome prince of the law firm and I'm your dutiful wench, but I'm not here to be your plaything. Yes, you're handsome-ish. Yes, you're a partner at the firm. Yes, I'm your ugly duckling assistant. But no, I'm not desperate, and I don't want you. I have no interest in being the nanny to your newly found kid when you want to go on dates. And I have even less interest in your offer to teach me the ways of the world. In fact, after my makeover, I'm pretty sure I'll have plenty of men wanting to help me discover the joys of companionship.

Dear Sir/Madam, I would like to nominate my jerkface of a boss, Kingston Chase, for the worst boss of the year award. I don't know if that's a category at your esteemed paper as yet, but if not, it should be. Yours Sincerely, Skye Redding.

To the rude guy in apartment five, I’m glad you’re happy to have moved into a new apartment, but no: I do not want to have a beer with you. I do not want to have a nude sleepover. I do not want to make you breakfast, lunch or dinner, no matter how many lap dances you promise to give me. I do not need you to serenade me through the walls at 1am. And no, I have no interest in letting you take me on a date. Sincerely, Magnolia Allen

I never intended to actually send the email. I’m not crazy. It was just a way to vent. I actually did need the money way too much to go off on my boss. Only when I went into office the next day, there was a note on my desk. It read, “A million years is up. See me in my office.”

City girl in Montana looking for her Romeo. Sounds like the start to a Hallmark movie right? Well, it would, if they had movies about idiot women flying across the country to marry a man they’d never met. That’s what I did. I responded to an ad in a newspaper that I found on the train. And now I’m trying to find Horseshoe Ranch so that I can marry some cowboy I’ve never even seen. And no, this isn’t the 1800s. I’m just desperate. To make matters worse, the cowboy doesn’t even know I’m coming. I figured life couldn’t get any worse in Montana. I was wrong.

I just wanted to have some fun.... It all started when I moved into my new apartment in Brooklyn and met my neighbor, Olivia. We became fast friends and so when she had to go out of town on an emergency work trip, I agreed to give her brother her keys so he could look after her dog. And then I met him. Her brother was Carter Stevens and he was sex on legs. He was a banker by day and a musician by night; arrogant, handsome, with the most tantalizing smile I’d ever seen. When he invited me to his show, I couldn’t say no.

Dear Grumpy Horrible Boss, You suck as a lawyer. I don't even know how you passed the bar. Or how you sleep at night taking clients like Jack Whittington. Just in case you didn't know, you can't fire me just because I have a part-time job working bachelor parties. What I do on the weekend is none of your business and not a part of my employment contract. If I want to go back to wearing coconut bikinis and popping out of cakes, I can. As soon as I get my big break as an actress, I will be leaving your employ. I am literally counting down the days.

Three days ago, I didn’t even know Simon Cambridge existed. If it wasn’t for one drunken night out with my friends, I would never have met Mr. Cocky Pants. I certainly never would have entered into a bet with him if I’d known then what I know now. And if I hadn’t lost the bet I wouldn’t have to work for him for the next month. Today is only day one and he’s already driving me crazy.

It had been one year, two months and seventeen days since my last date. So my best friend Abby decided to sign me up for a dating app. She guaranteed that she could get me the best date of my life within one week. I didn’t really want to do it, but I figured what did I have to lose? Turns out that I had.

I just announced my engagement to a hot billionaire. Yes, you read that right. A billionaire. My family is ecstatic and already celebrating. Only they don't know the truth. My engagement is faker than my Chanel handbag. My fake fiancé, Jackson Pruitt, is paying me to pretend to be in love with him so he can inherit his family's company. How cliché! My parents are planning free trips to Fiji. I'm counting down the days to end this thing. They don't know he's the same man I had a one-night stand with. Or the man who was super annoyed when Lenny at the bodega gave me his number.

I'm seeking a billionaire. I will also settle for a millionaire. Sorry, I'm not interested in any salesmen looking to sell me a time-share or a part of their animal balloon company (been there, done that). If interested, please respond before Monday morning so I don't have to go to work.

During the day, I work for Dylan McAllister, the hunky billionaire who became CEO of his own company at 30. He may be one of the hottest men I’ve ever met in my life, but he’s also the boss from hell. The only reason I’m still his secretary is because I have debt up to my eyeballs, thanks to student loans and an ex who conned me into letting him use my credit cards. Mr. McAllister has no idea that I, his “mousey little secretary”, have a night job just so I can quit as soon as possible. That is until I end up at a bachelor party for his brother.

Beau Hamilton is the biggest catch in Montana. He’s handsome, funny, and rich. As the oldest son and heir to one of the largest ranches in the state, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors around. And he knows it. His brother is marrying my best friend, and we’re both in the bridal party. He’s the best man, and I’m the maid of honor. I thought that he was a perfect gentleman until the night of the joint bachelor-bachelorette party. We did things that nobody should ever know about. Not even my best friend.

Tyler Redwood, you might be my brother’s best friend, but I find you to be insufferable, cocky, arrogant, immature, and totally annoying. You are not God’s gift to women and certainly not a gift to me. No, I don’t need you to wrap yourself in a bow. And even if you did, I would not be unwrapping it.

I would like to request more information about the assistant job I saw advertised in Sunday’s newspaper with the six-figure starting salary. I have a bachelors degree in English and many years of work experience and think I would be a good fit for the job. My questions are as follows: 1. What is the exact nature of the job? 2. Is it a strict requirement that I live with the boss? If so, can I have friends and others over? 3. The ad states there is a uniform. May I ask what sort of uniform? And why?

Aiden Taylor. He's devastatingly handsome, sexy, arrogant, and he's out of reach. He's my best friend's brother and the one man I can't have. However, now that my best friend, Liv, is getting married, I'm seeing him more than ever. And he's doing things to me that are making it hard for me to forget him.

Bianca's day starts out like any other...until she is abducted and locked in a van with a man she's never seen before. Ten hours later the two are dumped on a desert island, with no explanation and no means of escape. Confused and frightened, Bianca finds that the only thing keeping her terror at bay is her attraction to the stranger with whom she is stranded. But is he friend or foe?

"To Mr. Tate Howard, You are quite possibly the most infuriating, annoying and grumpy man I’ve ever met in my life. I know you think that you’re God’s gift to women, but I have a secret to let you in on: you’re not. You’re God’s gift to yourself. Get over your wanna-be cool surfer self and grow up. I thought it was time that someone addressed your big head and told you straight to your face that you're not all that. Just because you have an Ivy league education doesn’t mean you’re the smartest man in the world."

In this remarkable collection, ten premier scholars of nineteenth-century America address the epochal impact of the Civil War by examining the conflict in terms of three Americas - antebellum, wartime, and postbellum nations. Moreover, they recognize the critical role in this transformative era of three groups of Americans - white northerners, white southerners, and African Americans in the North and South.

Nothing in my life is going as planned. I haven’t been discovered walking down the street in my $40 Old Navy skinny jeans and told I have “The Look,” my hopes for achieving a Guinness World Record for most chocolate bars eaten isn’t even close, and no one in my family takes my writing seriously.