Too bad both are written in my stars.Yeah, I’m the world’s oldest virgin code-writing nerd.And he’s the world’s hottest firefighter.And even though he intimidates the heck out of me, I can’t seem to control my libido when he’s around.Where is my dignity? My self-respect? My panties?Seriously…. Have you seen them? Anyone?Maybe they’re hiding in his bedroom. With my heart.Yeah, I know. I’m hosed.So hosed.Hosed is a steamy, fun romantic comedy between a firefighter and the virgin nerd next door, complete with a pet raccoon, scandalous gossip, and dildo football. (No, really.) This romance has no cheating or cliffhangers, and ends with a banging hot happily ever after.

    Seriously. The guy is like a potassium addict. Of course, I touched it. If you want to get technical, I actually put it in my mouth. I chewed it up, too... I even swallowed.I know. Bad, bad, girl.Then I saw him, and believe it or not, choking on a guy's banana does not make the best first impression. I should backtrack a little here. Before I ever touched a billionaire’s banana, I got my first real assignment as a business reporter. This wasn’t the same old bottom-of-the-barrel assignment I always got. I wasn’t going to interview a garbage man about his favorite routes or write a piece on how picking up dog poop from people’s yards is the next big thing. Nope. None of the above, thank you very much.This was my big break. My chance to prove I wasn’t a bumbling, clumsy, accident-prone walking disaster. I was infiltrating Galleon Enterprises to follow up on suspicions of corruption. Cue the James Bond music.I could do this. All I had to do was land the position as an intern and nail my interview with Bruce Chamberson.Forget the fact that he looked like somebody carved him out of liquid female desire, then sprinkled on some "makes men question their sexuality" for good measure. I needed to make this work. No accidents. No disasters. No clumsiness. All I needed to do was hold it together for less than an hour.Fast forward to the conference room before the interview, and that's where you would find me with a banana in my hand. A banana that literally had his name on it in big, black sharpie. It was a few seconds later when he walked in and caught me yellow-handed. A few seconds after that was when he hired me. Yeah. I know. It didn't seem like a good sign to me, either.

     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.

    At least it’s not my brother’s best friend. Or my best friend’s brother. Or… never mind. It’s all pretty cliche. And worse? My boss’ best friend is his business partner. Which sort of makes him my boss too. Okay - it’s not sort of. It’s definite. Gabe Laurent is off limits. Totally off limits. Which is fine. I make do with my imagination. He’ll never know. Ever. Unless my work bestie passes me an eighties-style teen movie sex quiz during a meeting and I fill it out. And it ends up in Gabe’s hands… *** Please Note *** Wrong - Sophie's Story Right - Everly's Story Fling - Sandra's Story Trust - Chloe's Story - November 8, 2016 Each book can be read on it's own, but TRUST takes place 6 months after the first three books. Characters from those first three books appear in TRUST, living their happily ever afters.

    One genius idea. Zero interest in a relationship. The plan is simple: a brand new, hot, preferably funny, definitely single male will fill one of those seats for every Bears game at Soldier Field. And I’ll fill the other. I can’t think of a better way to use the season passes I’d bought for my ex-husband. I am a woman of plans, and this one’s foolproof. Until Zach Bowen offers to be my practice round. He’s infuriating. Presumptuous and overbearing. And absolutely, undeniably gorgeous. Any woman with a heartbeat would be attracted to him, and mine picks up speed every time he speaks. But as I said, I’m a woman of plans — and I’m not backing down on this one. One night. One game. And then, his time’s up. He can try to change the rules, but here’s the truth: he can’t win if he’s playing the wrong game. The Wrong Game is a stand-alone, angsty, enemies-to-lovers sports romance.

    I was naked. And we had no chance in hell at ever being platonic. I’ll be the first to admit that I live at extremes. After going ten years locked in what felt like a dysfunctional marriage, I’m now decidedly boy-free. In nearly three years I’ve had no boyfriends, no flings, no dates and no sex. For the sake of my dream career, the sacrifice has been easy. At least it was. Until he came along. Lukas Hendricks. He’s rude, gorgeous, arrogant – a stone-carved wall of muscle and distraction. He’s everything I know to avoid but there’s no avoiding your next-door neighbor. Oh yeah. The man now lives three steps from me and to make matters worse, he crashed into my life while I was relaxed in the tub – mortifying to say the least and it went something like this: I was exposed. He looked. He laughed. And then I locked myself out. In short, Lukas Hendricks was trouble from the start. And me? I was – for the first time in years – about to be screwed.

    I don’t want to party or try to move on. I just want to stay home and post a new recipe on my blog: Brynn’s Dips and Balls.But my friends aren’t having it. Get out there again, they say. It will be fun, they say. I’m still taking a hard pass. Free designer cocktails, they say. And that’s a game-changer. Too bad my ex shows up with his new arm candy. That’s when I lose my mind. But when my besties dare me to leap on the first single man I see, they don't expect me to actually go through with it.TOMAll I need right now is some peace and quiet while my home renovation TV show is on hiatus. But when a curvy woman in a red wrap dress charges me like she’s a gymnast about to mount my high bar, all I can do is brace myself and catch her. What follows is the hottest experience of my adult life. I want a repeat, but my flying Cinderella disappears immediately afterward. She doesn’t leave a glass slipper, either—just a pair of panties with chocolate bunnies printed on them. But I will find her.

    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 laughed, walked out of my penthouse—and I never saw her again. It doesn’t matter that I’m a rich, professional athlete; what mattered was my face. Beauty might only be skin deep for some—but I know better.“Pay up.” That’s what the last girl I spoke to said over the phone when I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. Desperate to sell a set of rare baseball cards, she’s clever and entertaining. I’m instantly smitten, but nowhere ready to reveal myself. Thank god she has no idea who I am—or what I look like.I’m a professional athlete--how hard can playing the love game be?

    If I took time to explain, Declan Moss would get hit by a bus.Let me back up. I didn’t ask for this. I was perfectly happy—and perfectly sane—before I was tasked with keeping Declan Moss alive. It was a thankless job until the moment that my panties dropped and his delicious smirk found his way in between my thighs.Hello, toe-curling ecstasy. Goodbye, professional boundaries. And suddenly, there’s a new danger to avoid: the falling of my heart.

    MiaAlex Lawson might as well be the hottest book boyfriend imaginable. A fun, romantic, possessive, panty-melting man. And the best part? He’s real. For a girl like me—a slightly awkward book addict—Alex is a dream come true, straight off the pages of my favorite romance novels. But our story is turning into a whirlwind romance—the kind that only exists in books. And I wonder if we’re heading toward our own happily ever after, or if he’s too good to be true.Alex Here’s the thing. I’m not a bad guy. Lying to Mia wasn’t part of the plan. Finding success as a romance author using a female pen name wasn’t part of the plan either. But sometimes life takes unexpected turns. Like realizing the woman you’re falling for is your alter-ego’s online best friend. Online, she thinks I’m a woman named Lexi. In person, she knows I’m all man. I want to worship her body and claim every inch of her. But if she finds out the truth, I could lose everything.

    You don't buy me, a$#%^*e. You earn me." The bride is a doll. The groom is the perfect gentleman. But the rest of the wedding party? They're the stuff of nightmares. Rich? Check. Vapid? Double Check. Entitled? Not enough checks in the world. And the Best Man? More like the Worst Man.But Maid of Honor Franchesca takes her duties seriously. Kidnapped groom? She's got this. Rude attendees? You just watch her handle them. So a Best Man with a big attitude and an even bigger...checkbook? Yeah, there's no way she's going to let that pretentious, judgmental jackhole ruin her best friend's wedding. No matter how sexy he is. (Well, that's the plan anyway...)Aiden Kilbourn doesn't do long-term relationships. He's busy ruling the business world, and has yet to find a woman he can tolerate for longer than a month, two at the outside, anyway. Conquering the unconquerable is basically his bread and butter. And he hasn't met a challenge that he can't win. But Franchesca Baranski? This smart-mouthed girl from Brooklyn may just be his downfall.

    I’m a mechanic, not a hotel manager. I've got enough on my plate trying to keep my shop from going under, my overbearing mother off my back, and my baseball team in contention for the league championship. I don’t have time for a former debutante with zero street smarts and a cash flow problem, even if she is crazy beautiful. Problem is, she’s stranded in my small town, and I’m hiding a protective streak underneath my grumpy exterior that runs deep. So I offer her a place to stay and keep my hands to myself. For exactly one night. If only she weren't so gorgeous. So funny. So eager to please. She’s a disaster behind the wheel, but she drives me wild without even trying--at work, at home, in the back of my truck . . . I can’t get enough of the way she makes me feel. But I know better than to think it can last. She wants a fairy tale, and I’m no prince. So when it comes time for her to leave, there’s nothing I can do but let her go. No matter how much it hurts to say goodbye.

    Was there wine? Of course. Did I let loose with my best friends? Absolutely. Did I have one glass too many and follow a tattooed bad boy into a bar? Cue mortification.I don’t do reckless, or wild nights of hot sex.Correction: I didn’t used to. I also didn’t plan to drunk-email my boss and quit my soul-sucking job, leaving me in a financial mess.But I'm churning those lemons into lemonade! I’m chasing my dream job handling wine at San Francisco’s hottest restaurant. But guess who shows up as my competition? None other than my tattooed bad decision. Even worse, the mother-F-er smolders at me and says, “Six.”Jimmy claims he gave me six orgasms, but I don’t remember our wild night, and I don't climax from oral. Pretty sure I’d recall if my body did the impossible and unraveled under his tongue. I call him a liar. He calls me a challenge. I tell him this job is mine and he better watch out because he’s going down.Which is exactly what he offers with that dirty mouth of his…

    She also has no filter.”“He’s no southern gentlemen.”“I had one last season to prove my worth.”“I’d never seen a game.”“He told me he was a player.”“She told me she was a lesbian.”“But you fell in love with me anyway.”“Yeah, baby, I totally did.”