Megan Bean

He’s waited a long time for me, but I’ve waited longer for the truth. Not even the king himself could keep me from the only ties left to my identity. Then I meet him, and I’m stuck between uncovering who I am and discovering who I’m meant to be.

Hudson Hopper is in trouble. After doing his business partner Jude a favor by hiring Jude’s younger sister Sloane, Hudson very quickly finds out that she is a massive distraction—especially since she’s now his assistant. Things get more complicated when Hudson volunteers Sloane to fill in as a bridesmaid for a potential client, and she agrees…with certain stipulations. She’ll be a part of the Regency wedding—corset and all—if Hudson marries her.

For years, I've dreamt of what college life could bring, and while some things changed, there was always one constant. It didn't matter how wild I allowed my imagination to run, it always led me to the same place in the end. It led me to him. My future was clear, and he was it. Until suddenly, he wasn't. Now there's a new man in my life, one who isn't afraid to go after what he wants, and what he wants...is me.

You don’t know me. You think you do, but you don’t. The only thing you know is my name, and even that’s a lie. I’m king of Boston, lord of criminals, ruler of an underworld empire. Or am I? Only one thing’s for sure: I operate alone. Until I cross paths with a brazen little thief who sets my whole kingdom on fire.

I’d always dreamed of my wedding day. But not like this. Not looking into the eyes of the man who betrayed me. But when my nephew’s guardianship is contested, I decide I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him in Rose Hill. Even if it means marrying the enemy. Rhys Dupris. A man who is secretive, broody, and completely infuriating. A man whose work takes him away for weeks on end and brings him back covered in mysterious bruises—ones he won’t talk about. In fact, we barely talk at all.

Brogan Six’s fan mail has been filling my mailbox for weeks. With every lipstick covered letter I receive, my irritation with him grows. And let’s not talk about the time I accidentally opened one of the packages to find someone had sent him their panties. Gross. When I come face-to-face with my new nemesis, I expect to give him a piece of my mind and we’ll go our separate ways. Me to an empty mailbox and him to sift through his panty collection. That is not what happens.

Imagine being snowed in with four hot successful men. P.S. they’ve all played the hero in too many of your naughtiest dreams. Problem is, you work for them, and that makes them off-limits. Except now they’re looking at you like you’re Santa’s cookies. And they definitely want to take a bite. Talk about making you reconsider your life choices. These four are aiming for Santa’s naughty list, and I’m pretty sure I’m getting: Jace, Reed, Alec...and Cole for Christmas.

I’ve been desperately looking forward to Christmas in my family’s snowy alpine chalet. Two blissful weeks of skiing, eating, and sneaking off for 'naps' to listen to my favourite audio erotica star. Yes, the man who warms my bed each night may have no idea I exist, but that doesn't stop me fantasising that his spicy stories and filthy words are for my ears only. It's set to be the most relaxing Christmas ever. Until my brother shows up… with an unexpected guest.

Conceited, unattainable, and downright delicious, renowned Michelin-starred chef Ambrose Casablancas has one passion in life: food. Women are a distraction, and he doesn’t do those. Especially Cal Litvin, his baby sister’s best friend. Her entire existence is a complication; she’s awkward, eccentric, infuriating… And, much to his chagrin, hotter than his kitchen. Ambrose has a lot on his plate: a new restaurant to open, a multi-million-dollar property deal to execute, and a violent stalker to tame. Then Cal shows up at his doorstep.

In the beginning, there was Savannah Shaw. Teasing me with a mischievous, merciless grin by day. Crawling through my window with tear-stained cheeks by night. I was ordered to avoid her. Lectured on her misdeeds. Forbidden from seeing her. But my need to protect her was innate. So natural I never questioned it. So visceral I couldn’t fight it.