Griffin Martin's the biggest jerk in the emergency department and I'm stuck working with him. No one else will have him. Behind his back, we call him Doctor Delight, and that's not a compliment. I can't lose this job, but he tried my patience and finally, when I'd had enough, I stood up to him. In front of everyone—the chief physician, the nurse in charge, and patients everywhere. What does he dare to do? He doesn't fire me. Instead, he pursues me.

Logan Murphy should come with a warning. He’s as hot as a Carolina Reaper on black asphalt in the middle of July. With perfectly messy dark hair and smoldering blue eyes—and don’t even get me started on the way that black tee stretches across his toned chest… He’s my brother’s best friend. He’s also a football star on track to win the first wide-receiver MVP in league history. Good thing I only date golfers… or I did.

I can still pinpoint the exact second when my life became two truths and a lie. You don't forget delivering a mountain of fresh-baked sweets to a man like Dexter Rory. I never wanted to see his scowling, bossy, brutally godlike face again, no matter how well he tipped. If you told me I'd wind up wearing his ring, I would've died laughing. But here I am, trying to cling to my sanity while I confront the undeniable.

If Renn Brewer would’ve asked me to marry him, I would’ve said no. Why? One, his reputation precedes him. His name is in the headlines at least once a month. Two, he’s not just my brother’s best friend. They’re teammates. And three, I’m in my self-care era. Unfortunately, a version of me equates self-care with bad choices.

From New York Times & USA Today Bestseller, Vi Keeland, comes a steamy new romance novel. The rules: No dating. No sex outside of the game. No disclosing the terms of the contract. Rules were made to be broken, right? Eight weeks ago I signed a contract. One that seemed like a good idea at the time. A handsome bachelor, luxury accommodations, and a chance to win a prize my family desperately needed. There were some rules though. Lots of them actually. Follow the script, no dating, sex, or disclosing the terms of the deal.

Rule Number 1: Do Not Sleep with Clients. I was the best agent in the industry. More ruthless and cutthroat than any arrogant bastard you'd ever met. The top actors in Hollywood came to me to get signed. When I saw James Ryne, America's Sweetheart, standing across the bar, I wanted her body like I'd never wanted anything before. I broke rule number one. But, after all, I was a man. No one had ever mistaken me for a saint.

I’m the arrogant one. She’s the woman who could tame me. What I don’t expect is to fall in love. The minute I hear her laugh, I smile. The second my fingers touch hers, I never want to let them go. When my eyes take her in, I know… Sadie Spencer is meant to be mine. She’s everything I never knew I wanted. Her curves put me in a trance. Her body has me in a chokehold. She’s an addiction, and I can’t keep my hands to myself. It’s the sexiest one-night stand I’ve ever had. At daybreak, the bed is cold, and Sadie is gone.

A new, sexy standalone novel from New York Times Bestsellers Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward.

I flee for my life when I leave Chicago, escaping a lifetime of misery. From the moment my eyes land on Mya Whitfield—I'm done for. Don't even get me started on watching her play the cello. I've never envied anything like I envy that enormous piece of wood between her legs. Move over, cello… There's a new man in town.

Easton Calloway needs a wifey, pronto, and he chooses me to temporarily fill the position. While I want to tell him to eff off, I can't walk away from the temptation. So, I do what any broke actress living in New York City would do, and I agree to the terms and conditions. It should be easy: a year of marriage, a cushy penthouse in the city, and a spending allowance. After three hundred sixty-five days, I'll receive divorce papers and a check in the mail. All I have to do is pretend we're happily married without falling in love.

Ruthless, arrogant, and cold-hearted are some of the words I would use to describe my a**hole of a boss, Damon Everette. That doesn't stop the goosebumps from rising along my neck every time he says my name or the way my pulse races when his stormy gray eyes pierce mine. So, when he coerces me into a fake marriage to uphold his family's tradition, I can't resist pushing his buttons. He's a walking red flag, and I should run the second this arrangement ends. But the very thought of losing him is suffocating—a dangerous addiction that I can't seem to break.

We met at my older brother’s house and instantly I knew that he was trouble. He kissed me, right there in the bathroom without a care in the world. And from that moment on, I was his. We were young, brave and naïve when we met. Sneaking around and falling in love. Giuliano Ferrara was perfection. A beautiful, crazy mistake. With his big brown eyes and his boyish charm.

For as long as I can remember, Lachlan West has been my brother’s best friend and the love of my life. Trouble is, he kissed me four years ago and then never spoke to me again. I was doing great pretending he doesn’t exist until I was assigned to write an article about former college athletes and I learn that the sexy single-dad is my first interview. Determined to wow my editor with an amazing sportsball piece. (Have I mentioned I know nothing about sports?) I head to Ember Falls, ready to face my fears—and the man I love.

Six years ago, Maria Romano got her birthday wish—a kiss from Enzo Costa. A man she could never take her eyes off, but who seemed as haunted as her favorite book boyfriends and strictly off-limits. Just one unforgettable moment in the dark and then he was gone. Now Maria is a divorced single mom, moving on and open to romance again. Fatefully, it’s with the new head chef at her sister’s restaurant: Enzo. A gentler man than the one she remembers, yet fire still burns. And a warning still lingers: don’t get too close.

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.