So of course she isn't interested in legendary team captain Alex Waters or his pretty, beat-up face and rock-hard six-pack abs. But when Alex inadvertently obliterates Violet's misapprehension regarding the inferior intellect of hockey players, he becomes much more than just a hot body with the face to match. Suffering from a complete lapse in judgment, Violet discovers just how good Alex is with the hockey stick in his pants.Violet believes her night of orgasmic magic with Alex is just that: one night. But Alex starts to call. And text. And email and send extravagant - and quirky - gifts. Suddenly he's too difficult to ignore and nearly impossible not to like. The problem is, the media portrays Alex as a total player, and Violet doesn't want to be part of the game.

    It's all the little things--the action plans, the long-kept promises--that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos. After I fell ass-over-elbow into Matthew Walsh's arms, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming. Meet Matthew Walsh. A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and she wasn't letting anyone tell her what to do--unless, of course, she was naked. She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway, and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.

    . . and it cuts right through the middle of their office. Bad boys? They run right over good girls like Georgina Keller. But after a confidence-shattering breakup, she’s determined not to let anyone at her new workplace push her around—least of all the brooding creative director, a “bad boy of publishing” who’s made it clear she’s enemy #1.Sebastian Quinn's taste for fast cars, late nights, and beautiful women may have gotten him to the top of a leading New York magazine, but the reputation that made him is suddenly threatening to end his career.Georgina can help Modern Man shed its bad reputation, but in order to do that, she’ll have to start at the top—and no amount of rakish charm or inconvenient attraction will distract her.Because if Sebastian gets her right where he wants her, it means she’s going down.

     I keep my two worlds separate. At work, I’m King of Wall Street. The heaviest hitters in Manhattan come to me to make money. They do whatever I say because I’m always right. I’m shrewd. Exacting. Some say ruthless. At home, I’m a single dad trying to keep his fourteen year old daughter a kid for as long as possible. If my daughter does what I say, somewhere there’s a snowball surviving in hell. And nothing I say is ever right. When Harper Jayne starts as a junior researcher at my firm, the barriers between my worlds begin to dissolve. She’s the most infuriating woman I’ve ever worked with. I don’t like the way she bends over the photocopier—it makes my mouth water. I hate the way she’s so eager to do a good job—it makes my dick twitch. And I can’t stand the way she wears her hair up exposing her long neck. It makes me want to strip her naked, bend her over my desk and trail my tongue all over her body. If my two worlds are going to collide, Harper Jayne will have to learn that I don't just rule the boardroom. I’m in charge of the bedroom, too. The King of Wall Street is a sexy, stand alone, contemporary romance.

    I’ve got a saying too: no thanks. The last thing I need is baby makes three. My business is expanding and the only thing I’m interested in getting knocked up is my bottom line.But then one night Emma Haverford makes me an offer I can’t refuse—she backs away from the land I have my eye on in exchange for a favor…A big, fat, baby making favor…******When I hear women have gotten pregnant shaking hands with Hunter men, I know I need Dylan Hunter’s…ahem, special skills…way more than I need to expand my vineyard. I’m ready to give my heart to a child and I’m tired of waiting for my late-to-the-party Prince Charming to make my dreams come true. So I promise Dylan—three months of hot, heavy, baby-making s-e-x and then I’m out of his hair forever.But what if when it comes time to say good-bye, all I want to do is keep bottling up more memories with this big-hearted man? This sexy Standalone romance will make you laugh, swoon, and blush baby-makin' red. Heat level: A risk of getting knocked up during download. Paperback and audio versions are especially dangerous. Handle with care...

    Point is, she cost me my two best friends ten years ago. It’s payback time, and I’m going to make her life hell.When I’m not banging her silly and myself stupid.I need to get my head back in business, because getting off is great, but "He was a man who had sex, and lots of it, and in the worst locations, with the woman of his nightmares" isn’t the inscription I want on my tombstone.Even if it’s true.AmbrosiaThere are three things I hate:Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking loudly like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett.Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It’s been ten years since he took my virginity—I’d make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a bratbest joke, and yes, it kills me to admit it—and now he’s not only a billionaire, he’s also my new boss.Turns out our hate is mutual. And this kind of hate is horrifically twisted, filthy, and banging hot.I just might have to hate him forever.MISTER McHOTTIE is 45,000 gloriously hilarious, hot, sexy words that your mother warned you about, complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

    Damn it if that tattoo-covered would-be felon isn’t everywhere now, and lighting everything on fire under her skirt.His name is Hudson Fenn, and he’s frustratingly impossible to pin down. He works as a bike messenger, but has the manners of a prince—along with a strange tendency toward breaking and entering. As much as Verity knows he’s not her type, and likely to land her in jail, she can’t help but find her truest self when they’re together.Can she be brave enough to give Hudson a real chance? Will he be bold enough to reveal the man beneath the ink, or will his secrecy doom their connection? Also, WTF is the deal with Verity’s boss? No less than thirteen of your favorite romance writers have teamed up to tell this sexy, wacky, snort-inducing tale. With them you’ll visit the world’s most irritating office, a VIP room of questionable cleanliness, and the fanciest apartment a bike messenger has ever inhabited, but you’ll still never see this ending coming.

    Maybe it’s the day-to-day grind. Maybe it’s that client who never knows what they want, or the guy who always cooks fish in the microwave.But not me. I love every corner of the Longbourne Flower Shop, every flower, every petal, every stem. I love the greenhouse, and I love Mrs. Bennet, my boss. I love creating, and I love being a florist. I don’t hate anything at all.Except for Luke Bennet.The Bennet brothers have come home to help their mom save the flower shop, and Luke is at the helm. His smile tells a tale of lust, loose and easy. He moves with the grace of a predator, feral and wild. A thing unbridled, without rules or constraint. When he comes home to save Longbourne, I almost can’t be mad at him. Almost.He doesn’t remember that night I’ll never forget. That kiss, touched with whiskey and fire. It branded me like a red-hot iron. But it meant nothing to him.Everyone hates part of their job, and I hate Luke Bennet.Because if I don’t, I’ll fall in love with him.

    Shen, comes a new standalone, enemies-to-lovers romance.Célian Laurent.Manhattan royalty.Notorious playboy.Heir to a media empire....And my new boss.I could have impressed him, if not for last month's unforgettable one-night stand.I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory--namely, his wallet.Now he's staring me down like I'm the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I'm supposed to take it.But the thing about being Judith "Jude" Humphry is I have nothing to lose.Brooklyn girl.Infamously quirky.Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.He knows it.So do I. Every day in the newsroom is a battle.Every night in his bed, war.But it's my heart at stake, and I fear I'll be raising the white flag.

    Then he told me that I needed to take his Jaguar to a car wash that was ten miles outside of the city, but only after I needed to stand in a never-ending line to buy some type of limited, hundred-dollar watch.I honestly can't wait to see the look on his face two months from now when I tell him that I'm quitting his company and that he can kiss my ass. KISS. MY. ASS.All those former fantasies about him kissing me with his "mouth of perfection" or bending me over my desk and filling me with his cock are long over. OVER.Your bestie,MyaPS--Please tell me your day is going better than mine...Subject: Re: My Boss.No, you haven't already told me that you hate your boss today, but seeing as though you've sent me this email directly, I know now...Yes, I did ask you to pick up my dry cleaning the second you arrived to work to day. (Where is it?) And I did tell you to take my Jaguar to the car wash and pick up my thousand-dollar watch. (Thank you for taking five hours to do something that could be accomplished in two.)You don't have to wait two months from now to see the look on my face when you tell me you're quitting. I'm standing outside your office at this very moment. ( Open the door. )No comment on your "fantasies," although I highly doubt they're "long over."Your boss,MichaelPS--Yes. My day is definitely going far better than yours... A steamy, office-romance novella from New York Times bestselling author, Whitney G.

    There is no denying his sex appeal.I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.

     She’s soft in too many ways. A people pleaser who goes the extra mile. Some might call her an easy target. In short, she has all of the qualities that I despise. But when it comes to me, she doesn’t hesitate to fling her poison arrows my way. She has every right to her feelings. Over the years, I’ve given her plenty of ammo. Yeah, I hate Lola. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting her too. When she makes me a proposition I can’t refuse, there’s just one problem. She tastes so f*cking sweet. So f*cking good. So f*cking mine. This is a full length standalone.

    Her plan comes to a screeching halt when her car breaks down and a tattooed bad boy rescues her from the side of the road.The chance encounter leads to a night of passion and turns her world upside down. Can their one-night stand ever turn into the real thing?

    Probably not in retrospect. In my defense I had just moved back into my grandparent’s house, I’d lost my dream job, and a guy on Tinder had stood me up. It was like life had suddenly stamped ‘LOSER’ on my forehead. So when the guy behind the bar started giving me THE look…you know, the one that promised I’d be screaming his name into the wee hours of the morning? When that guy also has the perfect amount of scruff on his chiseled chin, biceps bulging out of his t-shirt, and a cocky grin you knew he’d earned in the sack…when he gives you that look, you don’t bother to figure out what your six degrees of separation are. You jump on that horse and ride it! Pun fully and completely intended. And accurate by the way. I fully admit to feeling sorry for myself and acting impulsively, but by the time I’d figured out WHO the bartender was, I was already falling for him.

     But one look at Cade Hill, the sexy new sports director, and uptight reporter Rebecca Fieldstone is daydreaming about other things. Sex in his office… Sex in the on-set kitchen… Sex in the supply closet… She can’t stop thinking about the former NFL quarterback and how perfect he’d look between her sheets—except he’s an arrogant jerk with a huge… ego. He’s the last guy she’d ever have a one-night stand with. Cade Hill draws a thick professional line on office romance—until it comes to the hyper-focused Rebecca. He wants her, and he gets his wish when a chance encounter has them having the hottest sex of their lives. It’s just a hook-up, she says. When can we do it again? he says. With Rebecca determined to keep Cade in the friend zone, it’s going to be an uphill battle for Cade to convince her he’s the last guy she’ll ever want. THE LAST GUY is the first white-hot CONTEMPORARY ROMANTIC COMEDY from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills and Tia Louise. It features Fireball-fueled hookups, Doritos Locos Tacos, attack monkeys, toddlers in tiaras, and one fabulous drag queen. Prepare for frantic clicking (or page flipping!) and smoking-hot sexytimes all the way to the out-of-this-world happily-ever-after.