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.

The first time I laid eyes on Henley James, I was mesmerized. The chemistry between us was like nothing I’d ever felt. Impeccable suit, dimpled smile. He was charming and gorgeous, sophisticated and suave. He gave me his business card and asked me to call. His dating game was strong; I was gone from his first smile. I’d love to tell you our date was a raging success, but it wasn’t. Far from it. I decided right there on that day that Henley James and I would forever be mortal enemies; I would never think of him again.

I've been dreading this for a year. Okay, that's a lie. I've been dreading this reunion since we graduated high school 10 years ago. So why am I here, standing outside the door like the eternal wallflower I am? I'd say it's because my younger sister browbeat me into it, but the truth is, I'm tired of being a nobody. Of never taking a risk with myself and my life. And...well...maybe I'm also hoping to see him. The tall, insanely gorgeous man walking my way now. Oliver Fritz is regarded as one of Boston's sexiest doctors. I know him as the former god of our school.

Emmett Lasker is impossible to work for. He might be model handsome and stupidly wealthy, but he also has it out for me. He’s given me more last-minute and weekend requests than anyone else, ruining any plans I make. I should quit. And I will. Just as soon as I hit my two-year anniversary and earn out my signing bonus. But after a particularly awful day at work, a breakup (via text!), and my computer crashing, I’ve had enough! So at 11:59 Friday night, I barge into Emmett’s office to tell him what I really think of him. Only, that’s not what happens. AT ALL.

The moment I laid eyes on the new photographer at work, I had his number. Cocky, arrogant, and super-wealthy, women were eating out of his hand as soon as his tight ass crossed the threshold of our office. But not me. I knew better. When we were forced to go to Paris together for an assignment, I wasn’t interested in his seductive smile, his sexy accent, or his dirty laugh. I wasn’t falling for his charms.

I hate Christmas. As CEO of my company, I’ve banned decorations from the office, festive music from the lobby, and any kind of secret Santa gifts between employees are strictly forbidden. I’m heading to the airport, away from the Christmas lights and the mulled wine, heading for sunshine and margaritas when I get a call from Granny. She’s sprained her ankle and needs my help filling in for her as head of the village Christmas Committee.

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.

When I'm late for a job interview and get stuck on an elevator with an annoyingly sexy, ancient-Rome-obsessed grump, the last thing I expect is for him to be the billionaire owner of the building. I also don't expect to almost kill him...accidentally, of course.

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own.

In one second, my life disappeared. My past. My memories. My future. The only certainty I have from the last three years is that my older brother is dead and that I am the only eyewitness. In order to protect the case, the lawyers demand no one give me any information about my life...I must remember on my own. My only help comes from my brother’s best friend and world-renowned investigative reporter Spencer Cross. He has no idea how many nights I’ve spent dreaming of his name—and his body—next to mine. Each day we spend together, I find it harder to want my old life back.

When my grandmother found out she didn’t have long to live, she embarked on a crazy trip—jumping out of airplanes and scuba diving with sharks. After I repeatedly voiced my concern, Gram blocked me—her own grandson—on text and social media, leaving me only her travel companion Eleanor’s number.

It was just a typical Monday. Until the big boss asked me to make the pitch for a prospective new client. After two years on shaky ground at work because of my screw up, an opportunity to impress the senior partners was just what I needed. Or so I thought, until I walked into the conference room and collided with the man I was supposed to pitch to. My coffee spilled, my files tumbled to the ground, and I almost lost my balance. And that was the good part of my day. Because the gorgeous man who crouched down and looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive was none other than my ex.

I'm writing this letter because it's highly doubtful I'll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. So, here goes. We're totally wrong for each other. You're the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I'm just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England. But here's the thing... for some bloody reason, I can't stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.

A collection of the three best-selling high-stakes stand-alones in the Extravagant series!

A new standalone novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author, Vi Keeland. The night I met Drew Jagger, he'd just broken into my new Park Avenue office. I dialed 9-1-1 before proceeding to attack him with my fancy new Krav Maga skills. He quickly restrained me, then chuckled, finding my attempted assault amusing. Of course, my intruder had to be arrogant. Only, turned out, he wasn't an intruder at all. Drew was the rightful occupant of my new office. He'd been on vacation while his posh space was renovated.