When romance novelist Kate Smith suddenly gets writer's block as she's beginning the final installment of her international best-selling erotic Bed 'n Breakfast series, she'll do pretty much anything to get her groove back. Like sneak into a Tire Depot waiting room because her words flow there just like complimentary coffee - smooth, sweet, and scorchingly hot. She manages to fly under the radar until the rugged and charming mechanic, Miles Hudson, notices the quirky redhead slinking in and out of the employees-only entrance. But she's way too intriguing to blow the whistle on.

Gannon King is great with his hands and - if you believe what you read on Twitter - he's "sex in a toolbelt." The reality TV star learned his lesson about falling for pretty packages the hard, painful, humiliating way and he's not making that mistake again. Sure, "Legs" is gorgeous as hell and smart-mouthed - two of his favorite qualities in a woman. But she's an icy network kiss-ass. At least, that's what he thinks until he catches her being human. Field producer Paige St. James has zero time for temperamental stars, especially Gannon who does his best to get under her skin.

A sizzling friends-to-lovers novella about a marriage of convenience - and a jaw-dropping misunderstanding - between a notorious bad boy and the one woman he’s always wanted, but can’t have.

I didn't expect him. I didn't want to fall in love. But I can't let him go. Logan Bennett makes the world a safer place. He's brilliant. He's a hero. He locks away the sick and depraved. But while he's saving lives, I'm taking them. Collecting the debts that are owed to me. Ten years ago, they took from me. They left me for dead. They should have made sure I stayed dead. Now I'm taking from them. One name at a time.

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

Divorced. Broke. Living with a pack of elderly roommates. And those hallucinations she’s diligently ignoring? Her tarot card-dealing mom is convinced they’re clairvoyant visions. Just when things can’t get worse, a so-hot-it-should-be-illegal private investigator shows up on her doorstep looking for a neighbor...who turns up murdered.

She's everything I shouldn't want, but exactly what I crave. She bleeds innocence the way I radiate darkness. The moment she walked into my club, she was mine. She just didn't know it. I'll be the one to ruin her, and she will love every second. Innocence lost can't be regained.

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball. A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger. But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love. He’s fueled by revenge. To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage. His rival’s betrothed. To me, he is a man deserving of poison. A dark prince I refuse to marry. He thinks I’ll accept my fate. Well, I plan to rewrite it. And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die. But Romeo? He perishes.

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.

Forty-five, recently divorced and a certified hot mess. The last thing Fiona needs to start her vacation is a flooded hotel room and a broken-down car. Alas, that’s what she gets. She’s ready to pack it all in and go home - wherever that is - when her knight in a wet T-shirt strides in to save the day. Jaw-dropping, panty-melting Grant Greene takes the 'mess' out of 'certified hot mess' when he walks up to Fiona and offers her a room to stay. No strings attached. Great, right?

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.

I’ve got a list of people I absolutely don’t ever want to be stuck with on a boat, or a plane, or a train, and it starts and ends with the broody, grumpy, too-sexy-for-my-own good Axel Huxley. Also known as this romance novelist’s number one nemesis. The man is legendary for his mighty pen and his even mightier scowl. I tried to work together with the cocky thriller writer once upon a time, but the two of us are like vodka and good decisions. We don’t play well together.

I make a living out of screwing over the jerks who capture and torment supernatural beasties. But when I free a bunch of particularly powerful monsters from their cages, I'm not counting on them following me home like lost puppies - stunningly hot lost puppies, but still. These manly monsters are determined to repay me for my help, and they won't get out of my apartment, until they're satisfied we're even. There's something to be said for allies so devoted they'll tear off heads and shred souls on your behalf. I'm all for joining forces.

He was the talented bad boy everyone wanted. I was the irrelevant geek everyone hated. He was the sun...drawing all of us in. I was a black hole...taking up space. He was destined to be a star. I was destined to remain an insignificant no one. Until he made me believe I was special...and then he destroyed me. I never thought I'd see Phoenix Walker again after he broke my heart, but fate had other plans. One tour. Eight weeks. Forty shows. Countless opportunities to make him pay. The world thought he was a god...but I know the truth.

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”.