I’d been in Curmudgeon Bakery for one of those lemon baby-Bundt cakes I’d been craving since I found out I was pregnant. The draw had nothing to do with the baker himself. Tall, tatted, and edgy, he looked more like a biker than a man who makes baked goods. I hardly knew him other than taking a tumble in a rainstorm in front of his shop... and then tossing myself at him after he rescued me. We shared a moment, but it’s not what you’d think. Months later, he delivered my baby among his cookies and cakes. Talk about a second chance encounter.

Being a single dad was not on my short-list of life plans. Especially since I didn't know my daughter existed. Now, I'm not only juggling all that goes with having a four-year-old, I'm also trying to provide my daughter the skills to communicate her needs. I'm failing. Epically. I need big help with this small person. The woman assigned as my daughter’s mentor is a dream come true. Right up until she accuses me of neglect. Dr. Ellie Stone is fierce and determined and understands my daughter in a way I can’t.

You want to know the secret to everlasting happiness? Never fall in love. That was the wisdom my father imparted to us James boys after our mom died, and it’s a piece of advice that’s served me well. Until dear old Dad asks me for a favor over Sunday brunch. No big deal, right? I love making my old man happy. Except this “favor” is a lot more complicated than picking up his dry cleaning. Dad wants me to marry and provide a few heirs for the James empire, and he’s even done me the courtesy of handpicking my bride-to-be. Lucky me.

I never thought I’d be a runaway bride. But when it came down to it, I just couldn’t marry the wrong man. So, I ran. And somehow, I ended up in Star Falls, Colorado—stranded, no luggage, no plan—in a wedding dress with a past I’d rather forget. Fate lands me in the only available rental in town, a cozy little cabin… right next door to Byron Miller, the brooding billionaire who wants nothing to do with me. Or this town.

Whip King cannot be the man for me. Cocky, pierced firefighters are perfect for late-night rom-coms, but in real life they’re nothing but trouble. Especially when you find out they work for your dad—after you’ve already slept with them. Moving to my parents’ small town was supposed to be the fresh start I was looking for. When a disastrous Valentine’s Day leads to an unexpected encounter with a sexy stranger, and ends with the hottest night of my life, I didn’t think I would ever see Whip again.

Aspen Davies had three reasons to move to the small town of Amber Ridge: to get away from her overbearing mother; to escape the clutches of her psychotic ex; and Jesse Hayes. Okay, maybe Jesse isn’t a reason to relocate her entire life. After all, he’s just a friend. A housemate. And someone she absolutely is not going to date. At least…that’s what she keeps telling herself.

Olivet Pierson needs his land. Name your price, Mr. Harrington. She has her reasons, and this muscular mountain of masculinity isn’t going to get in her way. However, her heart has a different plan after she accepts his crazy conditions: three nights up on the ridge. George Harrington is a quiet giant of a man. No sale, Cricket. He’s a war hero, a widower, and COO for the family brewing company, but his life lacks spontaneity. Then, she arrives, chirping away at him, roaming his body with those sky blue eyes and negotiating for something on which he won’t put a price.

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.

I’m a no-nonsense man. As the head of a business empire, I have to be. I’m logical, cut-throat, and don’t believe in cheesy things like marriage and happy ever afters. But when my best friend asks me to be Best Man, I can't say no. En route to the wedding, I get stuck at the airport when my flight is delayed, and this obnoxious woman sits next to me. Not only does she keep drinking champagne even though she obviously can’t hold her liquor, but she seems determined to push every single one of my buttons.

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.

Knox Holland is in a jam. After an incredible first year on the pro motocross circuit, he should be on top of the world. Instead, his bad reputation has landed him without a team. He's untouchable and desperate to turn it around. Which is how he ends up at my gym asking me to train him. As a college gymnast with two Olympic medals to my name, I know a thing or two about the pressure to succeed. Last season I choked and then injured myself before I could show the world that I'm not a twenty-year-old has-been.

The job was simple. Always answer the phone—no exceptions—then solve the caller’s catastrophe as efficiently as possible. The rules were simpler. They contact you, not the other way around. Never give them your real name, number, or any personal information not required to help a newly single dad keep his head above water. And never, ever get involved with a caller.

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.

Jake Whitley and I start off on the wrong foot. And then it goes downhill from there. After my career implodes, I’m determined to make a living with my new event planning business. But Jake and I are at odds from the moment I step on his private plane.

Thomas O’Grady is the unofficial King of Sugar Mountain. He’s always been untouchable; the kind of man you admire from afar, but don’t get to be close to. So imagine my surprise when I get offered a job working underneath him at his resort. It’s a dream come true … until it isn’t. He’s grumpy, opinionated, and judgmental. I want to tell him exactly where he can shove it, but then I meet his daughter.

I’d been in Curmudgeon Bakery for one of those lemon baby-Bundt cakes I’d been craving since I found out I was pregnant. The draw had nothing to do with the baker himself. Tall, tatted, and edgy, he looked more like a biker than a man who makes baked goods. I hardly knew him other than taking a tumble in a rainstorm in front of his shop... and then tossing myself at him after he rescued me. We shared a moment, but it’s not what you’d think. Months later, he delivered my baby among his cookies and cakes. Talk about a second chance encounter.

Yeah, bad ones. Everly Davis didn’t leave her tight-knit hometown on the best terms. It’s been ten years, but you don’t forget heartbreak like that. Then again, the anonymous invite to the annual Kiss Lottery in Rose, Tennessee, gives Everly content for her podcast. And she has a bone to pick with that old heartbreak anyway.

Rian Thompson thought she joined the gym to get healthy. Little did she know she was about to add 190 pounds of swoonworthy abdominal muscles and arrogance to her life.

Four years ago, I had a ridiculous crush on my sister's boyfriend. But when they moved away together, I put Beck out of my mind and my heart. But now he's back, and roasting the best coffee in Vermont. I need to convince him to supply the Busy Bean. And I need more of those kisses we accidentally shared outside the coffee shop. He still makes my heart race faster than a triple shot of espresso.

As the team’s publicist, I desperately need a football player to be the face of our charity calendar. Turns out our one-time party boy receiver Jones Beckett needs a savvy PR woman to manage his new good guy rep. Sounds like a simple give and take, even though I’ll be traveling around the country, snapping pictures of the sexy athlete holding rescue kittens and puppies. Still, I’m dedicated to my job, so I'll stick to my iron-clad rule—don't date a player. And never ever fall for one. No matter how charming, big-hearted and devilishly clever the man is.

It’s not easy being a woman working in a male dominated field. Add in the fact that my uncle owns the baseball team I work for, and proving I belong here is a constant battle. Dating a player was never an option. Not if I wanted to keep a shred of dignity and respect. Then Ronan Sinclair sits down next to me in first class with his alluring blue eyes and hard-to-resist dimples. To say nothing of his kindness and charm, or his determination to convince me that a steamy vacation fling is what we both need.

Saylor's goals have always involved the literal kind constructed from posts and netting. Her single-minded focus has cost her a lot, but it's also earned her recognition as the top female college player in the US. She doesn't get attached. Meeting Adler Beck, the notorious player celebrated worldwide and coveted by women everywhere, challenges her indifference. But Saylor perfected the art of appearing unbothered a long time ago, and her scoring percentage is even higher off the pitch. Might as well add a gorgeous German to the tally.

Surely, my older sister has lost her mind. There is no way I’m driving her insufferable - albeit sexy silver fox - boss 2,000 miles. This is my spirit trip. The Mother Road is intended to help me reclaim myself. Letting go of my past, I’m only looking forward to the path ahead of me. But my gaze keeps wandering to the rearview mirror, wondering what secrets my grouchy passenger keeps and how that silver scruff might feel blazing a trail on hidden parts of me.

Even so, I never dreamed we'd end up here—him hating me for the choices I made to save his career. It's fine. I've moved on. I've had a few bumps in the road with my rising event planning career, but running my best friend's wedding to her pro-football fiancé will fix all of that. If I pull off the perfect wedding. There's one more bump I wasn't expecting—my ex, Jett McCombs, is a groomsman, and seeing him again makes two things clear. I still love him. He still hates me.

Steal back a lost painting and risk the wrath of a powerful mafia boss? Yup, I did that. In the seductive and shadowy underworld of Venice, one man rules with an iron fist. Ruthless mafia boss. King of Venice. Antonio Moretti. I stole his priceless masterpiece, intent on returning it to the museum it was stolen from. And Antonio caught me.

Best friend rule number one: Never want the guy’s sister. Oops.

There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t date Fletcher Huxley. He’s a growly-faced, stubborn-streaked, international rugby legend trying to revive his flailing career in the US after being canned by his team overseas. While he might have the good kind of thunder thighs, intriguing tattoos, and a booty of steel, he also holds the top position on my very short nemesis list thanks to what happened the first time we met.

Dear Grumpy Horrible Boss, You suck as a lawyer. I don't even know how you passed the bar. Or how you sleep at night taking clients like Jack Whittington. Just in case you didn't know, you can't fire me just because I have a part-time job working bachelor parties. What I do on the weekend is none of your business and not a part of my employment contract. If I want to go back to wearing coconut bikinis and popping out of cakes, I can. As soon as I get my big break as an actress, I will be leaving your employ. I am literally counting down the days.

The job was simple. Always answer the phone—no exceptions—then solve the caller’s catastrophe as efficiently as possible. The rules were simpler. They contact you, not the other way around. Never give them your real name, number, or any personal information not required to help a newly single dad keep his head above water. And never, ever get involved with a caller.

Aiden Slate. Pro hockey star. Captain of the Redville Saints. And the bane of my existence. All it takes is a little liquid courage to storm his castle. Or, in this case, a cushy five-star hotel suite. I'm supposed to give him a piece of my mind. To unleash a decade of pent-up anger. What I'm not supposed to do is sign an NDA meant for another woman. He thinks I'm here to relieve his stress. Well, he's in for a rude awakening.