After almost—but not quite—dying, she’s come up with six directives to help her “Get a Life”, and she’s already completed the first: finally moving out of her glamourous family’s mansion. The next items?• Enjoy a drunken night out.• Ride a motorcycle.• Go camping.• Have meaningless but thoroughly enjoyable sex.• Travel the world with nothing but hand luggage.• And... do something bad.But it’s not easy being bad, even when you’ve written step-by-step guidelines on how to do it correctly. What Chloe needs is a teacher, and she knows just the man for the job.Redford ‘Red’ Morgan is a handyman with tattoos, a motorcycle, and more sex appeal than ten-thousand Hollywood heartthrobs. He’s also an artist who paints at night and hides his work in the light of day, which Chloe knows because she spies on him occasionally. Just the teeniest, tiniest bit.But when she enlists Red in her mission to rebel, she learns things about him that no spy session could teach her. Like why he clearly resents Chloe’s wealthy background. And why he never shows his art to anyone. And what really lies beneath his rough exterior…

    Example: You're chatting with a guy you're interested in and your friend comes along and lays claim to him.MaggieThat's my life except it's worse. My friend who keeps jamming me is my gay roommate, and if that isn't a W.T.F. moment, I'm not sure what is. Fact: He went home with three yes, three of the guys I had been so sure were into me. Fact: He's really pissing me off. I mean, hello? I'm trying to get back in the saddle, but I'll never manage to get a boyfriend before the age of fifty if he keeps this up. Fact: Secretly, I wonder what it would be like if he weren't gay.RyThe day I interviewed for the room to rent, everything changed. I knew I had met the girl, except there was one small problem: she didn't want anything to do with men. I recognized a top-notch force field when I saw one. She'd been burned badly and didn't want to deal with a heterosexual guy as a roommate. I could've turned around and found another place to live, but I wanted to live there with her. So I had to go undercover. Fact: I'm in love with my roommate. Fact: She's going to hate me if I come clean now. Fact: I'm not giving up. Which means I'll just have to continue to run defense until I figure out a way to get Maggie to see the real me. The me that loves her. The me that would never do her wrong. Until then, I'll keep running off every guy who shows any interest. Until then, I'll continue to Clam Jam.

    I’m chronically awkward, socially inept and completely lack a filter. Believe it or not, men do not find these attractive traits. When my sexy-as-sin neighbour barges into my apartment at the arse crack of dawn, everything changes. For some strange reason, my brand of crazy doesn’t send him running for the hills. Instead, he settles in for a nap on my couch… Oh, and did I mention he was completely naked? Love RomCom's? Then Pink Bits is for you! Check out what advance readers are saying- "Pink Bits is a refreshingly unique, snort-laugh worthy read that I could not put down! Featuring quite possibly the funniest meet cute ever, it's a definite must read."- Author Amali Rose "This book is everything that is amazing, it is sweet, touching and absolutely hilarious." "This book had me laughing out loud and I found I couldn’t put it down. " "I honestly love this little lighthearted masterpiece and I think you will too!" "JB has a real hit on her hands with this wonderful story."

    Her family may be falling apart, but their massive fast-food chain is booming ― mainly thanks to Pepper, who is barely managing to juggle real life while secretly running Big League Burger’s massive Twitter account.Enter Jack, class clown and constant thorn in Pepper’s side. When he isn’t trying to duck out of his obscenely popular twin’s shadow, he’s busy working in his family’s deli. His relationship with the business that holds his future might be love/hate, but when Big League Burger steals his grandma’s iconic grilled cheese recipe, he’ll do whatever it takes to take them down, one tweet at a time.All’s fair in love and cheese ― that is, until Pepper and Jack’s spat turns into a viral Twitter war. Little do they know, while they’re publicly duking it out with snarky memes and retweet battles, they’re also falling for each other in real life ― on an anonymous chat app Jack built.As their relationship deepens and their online shenanigans escalate ― people on the internet are shipping them?? ― their battle gets more and more personal, until even these two rivals can’t ignore they were destined for the most unexpected, awkward, all-the-feels romance that neither of them expected.A fresh, irresistible rom-com from debut author Emma Lord about the chances we take, the paths life can lead us on, and how love can be found in the opposite place you expected.

    All men. Famous last words, right? You’re expecting some epic tale of reluctant love and my dramatic change of heart? Well, you’re not going to get it. I’m stubborn. And headstrong. And I’ve just survived the worst three years of my life. After escaping an abusive boyfriend to live in hostels and cheap hotels while I worked my way across Europe, I’ve come to two conclusions. The first? Now that I’m back home, I’m going to squander my expensive culinary degree on a food truck that caters to the late night drunk crowd. The second? I’m going to prove to the bastard across the plaza that my street food is better than his fussy five course monstrosities.Killian Quinn might be Food and Wine’s Chef to Watch Out For. He might have a Michelin Star. He might have every food critic in the city wrapped around his too-large fingers. But he’s also pretentious and unbearably arrogant and the very opposite of me. So he can keep his unsolicited advice and his late night visits and his cocky smiles. I want none of it. Or him. I want the opposite.

    He's southern. And he won't stop showing up at my door half naked. Meet Elijah Jackson, my hot new neighbor...From the outside looking in? I’ve got it all. Prestigious job. Pretty house. And a perfect boyfriend who just proposed with the perfect ring.I should feel ecstatic—but instead, I feel suffocated. So I break up with my boyfriend, hop in my car, and head south.Charleston, South Carolina: home to stunning architecture, sultry accents, and—oh yeah—my perpetually shirtless neighbor, Elijah Jackson. As if his abs for days and inked up deliciousness aren’t enticing enough, he also encourages me to chase down my dreams. And the chemistry between us? Hotter than the kitchen at Eli’s restaurant. But I still have a life a thousand miles away. One I’ve worked really hard to build. And I don’t know if I can just leave it all behind.I have to choose. A choice Eli doesn't make any easier by inviting me out to his cabin for a long weekend. Just the two of us. And one bed. I swear to God this southerner is out to charm the panties right off me. Just this once, I might let him...SOUTHERN CHARMER is a slow burn, standalone romance with no cheating. It is part of the Charleston Heat Series, which is a series of interconnected standalone novels set in the steamy southern town of Charleston, South Carolina.SOUTHERN CHARMER: Oliva and Eli’s bookSOUTHERN PLAYER: Gracie and Luke’s bookSOUTHERN GENTLEMAN: Julia and Greyson’s bookSOUTHERN HEARTBREAKER: Eva and Ford’s book

    From the author of Where Good Girls Go to Die, comes a fun, passionate friends-to-lovers romance that readers say "took all of my insecurities, wants, thoughts, fantasies, and needs and brought them to life." -Beauty and the BooksGuys like Tucker Moore don't date girls like me.His boring ol' washboard abs look like they were sculpted by the gods, and I have more curves than a backroad in a country song.He can charm the panties off anyone, but I am better off hiding behind my camera lens.He's my next-door neighbor and the definition of a bad idea.I have no business thinking about him, and I should have pushed him out of my dreams the moment he showed up.I'd have been better off not tempting him into anything more when I should have been walking straight into the friend-zone.Which I do, faster than he can say "Just friends."It doesn't matter that he spends more time in my apartment than his or that he smiles at me in a way that makes my stomach flip.That's just Tucker.Before I know it, he's my best friend.And completely off-limits.A weekend away is our downfall, and I pack my bag so full, I can't fit my logic.Because Tucker would be fine.But I'd end up in Trouble with the Guy Next Door.

    Join readers everywhere as they fall in love with the delicious Gibson Boys. This is one mistake Sienna Landry can’t buy her way out of. As Walker Gibson looks at her, then at the damage to his precious truck (that she may or may not have accidentally inflicted), she knows she’s in trouble. It’s not the busted headlight and dented grill that’s sunk her though. It’s the downright sinful man in front of her that’s the problem. The small town mechanic is broody. Rough. Smells like engine grease and gasoline and Sienna isn’t sure why that’s so sexy, but it is. It so is. She’s ready to peel off her panties at the drop of his wrench. He wants her too. She can feel it when he brushes against her. Experience it as he presses her against the wall of the shop. It’s thinly veiled in his deep, brown eyes when he looks at her like she’s everything he’s ever wanted. So why won’t he give in? The damage to Walker’s truck is the first of many mistakes between the two of them, ending with truths that rock Sienna’s world. Nothing can fix her broken heart except the love of a man that won’t, maybe even can’t, love her back.

    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.

     He’s good with his hands, even better with his sexy mouth, and the best at making me forget my own name. His—ahem—stats are perfect. But I can’t fall for him. He might be everything I want, all rolled into a glorious package of gridiron god, but there’s one teeny-tiny problem. The vile, loathsome team I’ve spent my entire life hating—my beloved school’s arch-rival? This guy is their star player.

    Yeah, that Barrett Callahan—the one the press dubbed “Bare” after those naked sexting pictures surfaced. At twenty-five, I was armed with an MBA from Harvard, an executive position at my father’s Fortune 500 company, a penthouse, and a different piece of delectable eye candy in my bed every weekend. I had a life most men dreamed of. But then my father decided to run for president, and my playboy lifestyle became a liability to his campaign that was built on family values. My “makeover” comes in the form of a fake fiancée who I don't even get to choose--one who is an uptight, choirgirl acting priss but also sexy-as-hell. AddisonMy latest relationship had gone down in flames, and I was drowning in a sea of student loans when in true Godfather status, James Callahan made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Seven figures for seven months on the campaign trail pretending to be the adoring fiancée of his son, Barrett. As soon as he won the election, our engagement would be dissolved amicably for the press, I was free to ride off into the sunset a million dollars richer, and because of the NDA, no one would be the wiser. Sure, I’d never met the guy, but I’d been a theater nerd in high school. I could pull off any role from Lady Macbeth to Maria Von Trapp. But that was before I met my fake fiancé—the infuriating, self-absorbed, egotistical, drop-dead-sexy King of the Manwhores. The race will be a fight to the death finish, and that’s not even the actual campaign.

    Instead, I’m trapped in personal assistant hell. His hobbies include barking orders, torpedoing my advertising campaigns, and reducing the office staff to tears.On a good day, he acts like I’m invisible. On a bad day, I remind myself arsenic is not an acceptable sweetener for coffee. And prison orange would be murder on my complexion.Imagine my surprise when Chase follows me home to Bitter End, North Carolina, where I’m about to endure my ex-fiancé’s wedding.The moment he chases off my date and offers to pose as my boyfriend, I know he's got a hidden agenda—especially when he plays the part a little too convincingly. Unfortunately, I have to play along to find out what he’s really up to.To satisfy the town gossip squad, I’ll have to let him kiss me. Who knew Satan’s lips were so soft and inviting? And if we’re really playing the part, we’ll have to go to Lover’s Lane – testing my willpower beyond its limits.The more time we spend together outside the office, though, the more I see a different side of him. He’s still bossy and demanding, but is it wrong that I find it kind of, well … hot?This wedding is bound to be hell, so I might as well spend it in the arms of a sexy devil.

    Now he's stuck slinging reindeer dogs to an endless string of resort visitors who couldn't interest him less. Not even the sweet, enthusiastic tourist in the corner who blushes every time he looks her way…Two weeks in Alaska isn't just the top item on Zoey Caldwell's bucket list. It's the whole bucket. One look at the mountain town of Moose Springs and she's smitten. But when an act of kindness brings Zoey into Graham's world, she may just find there's more to the man than meets the eye…and more to love in Moose Springs than just the Alaskan wilderness.

     Especially not a man like handsome, arrogant Connor Pratt. AKA the huge PITA who’s currently crashing in my spare room. AKA my brother’s best friend since they were about six. AKA the one guy who still makes me feel like an awkward tongue-tied loser. But when Connor moved in, I got a glimpse of another side of him. Because, like me, Connor’s going through a nasty break-up. And, like me, he’s just doing whatever he can to get through it. Unfortunately, his method involves drinking alarming amounts of whiskey and watching a lot of, um … movies … that make every inch of my skin flush. I’m just trying to be helpful when I tell him that he should try my method: copious amounts of baked goods, sappy romantic comedies, and late nights spent whining with girlfriends. But I should have known Connor would take that as a challenge. Now, he says he’ll try my way of dealing with a break-up … but only if I agree to try his. Six month's rent to the person whose method works best. We call it the break-up bet. And I’m going to win. Except right now, it feels like there’s a whole lot more at stake than just rent money…

    Suit monkey, commitment-phobic serial dater. No more than three dates, unless he hasn't ... you know. Emmy:What a disaster! I only just made my flight to New York to help my uncle, and the phone I’m holding is not mine! It seems to belong to some commitment-phobic serial dater who’s never made it past four dates (according to the constant notifications he's getting from his fake dating profile...) And worse? I have a sinking feeling it’s that hot suit-monkey with the arctic grey eyes I just had a run-in with at the airport. Somehow I have to persuade him not to get a new phone until I get back. My whole life is on that phone. It’s only a few days. Surely we can handle it. Trystan :This is a joke, right? My life could not get more f*cked up. I’m in the middle of selling my company and on my way to a funeral and that hot mess hippie-chick stole my freaking phone. I’m not sure how she convinced me not to immediately walk into a smart phone store and get a new one, but now she’s going to have to play stand in and distract me while I deal with my long-avoided and estranged family. I don’t have my dating apps after all, and frankly she’s pretty funny. And sexy. And why can’t I stop texting her? And now we’re talking. And … look, I’ll admit that I usually run for the hills the morning after, but the morning after phone sex? That’s not really real, right?