I didn’t know bridesmaid was code for babysitter for the bride’s brother, but if that’s what my best friend needs of me for her dream wedding to go off without a hitch, that’s what I’ll do. Even if Theo Monroe has been a pain in my rear since third grade. Even if he should be responsible enough to not wreak havoc at his sister’s destination wedding.

Call it superstition, but when a guy bats as hot as Brooks Elliott, you don’t mess with what’s working. And what’s working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field. So when I hear he’s planning to ditch his V-card now that he’s been traded to baseball’s lovable losers - a.k.a. my home team and my reason for living every March through October - I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do. I make a plan to stop him. But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him. Lots. And lots. And lots of time.

I knew fixing up my life with a fresh start on the hobby ranch I inherited in Hell’s Bells, Wyoming, would come with challenges. Things like snow. Wildlife. Local gossip about why my daughter and I are here. But the biggest challenge? My surly new tenant. He’s like a bear. Fascinating from a distance, but don’t get too close, or he’ll bite. His personality should be a good thing. I have no need of a new man in my life. But he’s not only my tenant; he’s also my daughter’s math teacher and soccer coach.

Anything your tongue desires, I can bake it. Scones? Child's play. Cupcakes? I'll frost them so good you won't know what hit you. Donuts? Please! You're talking to a master baker. But there's one egg I've never been able to crack. My best friend. Correction: my former best friend. She's the apple in my pie. The whip in my cream. The lemon in my meringue. The wish in my bone. She's the one who got away.

He's a billionaire heir. A grump supreme. Hater of people. Bigger hater of peopling with people. And my new fake boyfriend. "Emotionally unavailable" doesn’t even begin to describe Hayes Rutherford. He has more defenses than a nuclear missile silo. And he’s the ultimate catch of the century. At least, according to his bank statement. My job’s simple: Keep all interested ladies away from the walled-off heir, by pretending to be his one true love. But you know what they say about fake-dating a billionaire: It’s all fun and games, until the scandals start.

Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend. Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet. Target: Grady Rock. Master baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends. Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me. 

The day I showed up to Dax Moody’s sprawling home, I had no idea what was coming. As a traveling massage therapist, I was used to entering the houses of strangers. But this assignment was different from any before it. From the outside, I’d correctly assumed the owner was rich. What I didn’t realize was that he would be younger than I’d imagined, single, stunningly gorgeous, and mysterious.

Four steamy, feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic adventures featuring swoon-worthy rock-star heroes and the fabulous ladies who love them. Also includes a brand-new holiday novella!

The first time I met Merrick Crawford was during my job interview. Well, technically, I’d met him 20 minutes earlier when he’d barged into a fitting room a few doors down from my appointment. I yelled. He yelled. After an argument while standing in my bra, I proceeded to smash the door into the gorgeous jerk, trying to yank it shut. As you might imagine, I was freaked out when I discovered that the rude guy was my potential new boss. Yet he didn’t seem to recognize me. Or so I thought.... Until we wound up bickering again during my interview and he told me to go sniff my armpit.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

It started out like any other Tuesday. I spent 12 hours writing algorithms for one of the largest companies in the world and then came home to work on a pet project of mine—feeding facts about the men I knew into a formula to find my perfect match before my twenties came barreling to a close.

For the last year, I’ve wanted someone I can’t have. The man my father built his latest multimillion-dollar business with. He’s nearly a decade older than I am, and he’s entirely forbidden. The fact that he’s never given me a second glance only makes me long for him more.

Mister McHottie is the hilariously sexy prequel to the Copper Valley Thrusters series, where you’ll first meet the twin tank hockey players who inspired the next books. It comes complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks between a billionaire boss and the woman he tormented as a child, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

Rule number one for dating your best friend’s sister: Don’t. Just don’t do it. Especially when your best friend is dead and the last thing he made you promise him was that you’d keep an eye on his little sister, but not too good of an eye.

It started when I hosted a little party for a bunch of new friends. Though “friends” might not be the right word since the invitees were all the women I’d found out my boyfriend was talking to behind my back. When the guest of honor walked in—aka my now ex—things took a turn…. Unfortunately, a stranger witnessed the whole blowout. I was in a mood that night and ended up giving this gorgeous guy an attitude, too. As if my night could get any worse, before he stormed off, he informed me he was actually my landlord.