I had a brilliant life, living in England where everyone knew me as just Ben, the massage therapist. Then my mother summoned me home, determined to marry me off. You see, I'm not just Ben. I'm Bennett Worthington Montague, crown prince of Mithoria, and my mother has arranged for every eligible aristocratic girl to compete to become my princess. Does anyone care what I want? When a mate offers to let me stay at his house in New Hampshire for Christmas while he's on holiday in Switzerland, I jump at the chance. But on my way there, I get lost. Then a sexy girl rescues me. 

Good-girl Erica Teague is out on bail, charged with a crime her ex-lover committed. A lifetime of sticking to the rules has left her broke, burned, and facing a trial and certain conviction, thanks to the evidence planted by her trust-funder ex. Desperate to experience one wild night of sizzling sex before her freedom is torn away from her, Erica heads to a notorious night club in search of a one-night stand - where a case of mistaken identity lands her in the arms of a hot Scot with a secret past.  

I'm in love with my best friend, but Jessica O'Connor sees me as only a friend. The fact that we had sex once and it was bloody awful doesn't help. But she finally ended her engagement with Domhnall Sterling, the Scot she took up with two years ago. Do I have a chance now? Maybe. If I can show her that we have chemistry. The sort that will burn so hot she'll forget all about that damn Scot.

Lachlan MacTaggart is hot, Scottish, and dangerous - to a woman's heart. I'm done with love. My ex-wife made sure of that. When my American friend offers to swap houses with me for a month, I can't say no. Chicago sounds like the perfect place for a holiday, until I find out there's a sexy American lass living next door. Erica Teague is bonnie, clever, and as wounded as I am. But I won't ask her why. All I need is Erica in my bed for four weeks, no strings, just a summer fling. We won't talk about our pasts, our lives, or anything except sex. That's the plan.

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.

If this arrogant Irish mobster my brother sold my niece to thinks I’m going to play nice over this arranged-marriage BS, he should think again. I don’t care if this match with the Mob will make my brother capo of the Five Families. I don’t care how much money, territory, or power it will gain us. I especially don’t care that the Irishman is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. I won’t allow my innocent niece to suffer the same way I did. Even if I have to kill him.

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”.

Look, when I met the sexy, witty Brit on the streets of London last night, I had no idea who he was. He was just that hot guy I wanted to have a drink with, so I asked him out for my first evening in town. One thing almost led to another. After a midnight kiss, we made plans for a whole lot more the next day. But when I unlock the door to my rental in the morning, the English hottie is lounging on the couch like he lives here too. Great. For the next year, I’ll be sharing a tiny flat with the sexiest guy I’ve ever known.

Logan St. James is a smoldering, sexy beast. Sure, he can be a little broody at times - but Ellie Hammond's willing to overlook that. Because, have you seen him? Sexy. As. Hell. And Ellie's perky enough for both of them. For years she's had a crush on the intense, protective royal security guard - but she doesn't think he ever saw her, not really.

I hate Christmas. As CEO of my company, I’ve banned decorations from the office, festive music from the lobby, and any kind of secret Santa gifts between employees are strictly forbidden. I’m heading to the airport, away from the Christmas lights and the mulled wine, heading for sunshine and margaritas when I get a call from Granny. She’s sprained her ankle and needs my help filling in for her as head of the village Christmas Committee. 

There are three words most men can’t resist—I dare you. So as you can see, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I had no choice when my buddies said, “I bet you can’t get that brunette beauty to kiss you before the night ends.” I proved them wrong, and oh, how good it felt to be right when I swept the quick-tongued woman into my arms and kissed the breath out of her at the party. But, I made a slight miscalculation. Turns out she’s my brand-new enemy. And soon, I’m locked in a fierce battle of wits with my sexy-as-sin nemesis.

Last night I made out with a gorgeous, funny, quirky older woman. Today I learned she’s the new executive chef at my restaurant. AKA my new boss. Yep, that’s the hot mess I’m in at the moment. But the chemistry between Natalie and me is even hotter. The problem? She’s a single mom focused on helping her little girl adjust to life in the big city. Dating right now—especially a co-worker—is asking for trouble. So, what’s my next move? Seduce the hell out of the woman, of course. 

When you think about how easy it is to lose keys, phones, sunglasses and your dignity on social media, you might figure it'd be a cinch for me to ditch my V Card. You'd be wrong. At 25, I run a successful business, live in a fantastic apartment, and have fabulous friends to go out with any night of the week. And yet I'm still a card-carrying member of a club I don't want to belong to anymore. Good thing I know just the man for the deflowering job - my brother’s business partner and best friend.

I've been dreading this for a year. Okay, that's a lie. I've been dreading this reunion since we graduated high school 10 years ago. So why am I here, standing outside the door like the eternal wallflower I am? I'd say it's because my younger sister browbeat me into it, but the truth is, I'm tired of being a nobody. Of never taking a risk with myself and my life. And...well...maybe I'm also hoping to see him. The tall, insanely gorgeous man walking my way now. Oliver Fritz is regarded as one of Boston's sexiest doctors. I know him as the former god of our school.

After my last romance turned into a dumpster fire, I did the only reasonable thing - I swore off men for all of eternity. So my bestie said she did the only reasonable thing - she signed me up for a freaking dating app. I thought it was a joke. But after too many martinis, I committed a cardinal sin. I slid into the DMs of the first eye-roll-inducing profile I found - @BigDeckEnergy.