Dear grouchy neighbor: I’m considering your offer and need clarification before proceeding. Despite being an artist, I think you know that as a busy New Yorker, I am also practical and straightforward. That said, I need to make sure you know that this could never turn into anything serious. I don’t care if you’re trying to get over your ex-girlfriend or hoping she’ll eventually want to get back together with you - just don’t project your messy feelings about her onto me.

Everyone on Main Street has been talking about Evan Hunter, the British movie star who’ll be filming on location in our small Pacific Northwest town for a couple of months, and all I have to say about that is: “Who?” When he shows up two weeks early to escape the London paparazzi after breaking up with some starlet, all I want to know is: “So?” When he walks into the gym that I manage for my dad and brothers, to start training for the action scenes in his movie, I’ll admit I do say to myself: “Hmmm...” 

A single dad, a model, and a comedian walk into a bar.... They’re all Owen Brodie. It’s only funny if you aren’t the hilarious struggling comedian who has been hired to be his son’s nanny for the stand-up tour. 

She serves me coffee late at night when I come around to write lyrics, but it’s not the caffeine I’ve gotten addicted to. We’ve got the spark, but she’s the only woman in town who seems to be immune to my charms. When it’s time for me to leave for my cross-country tour, I just can’t imagine not seeing her for months. So I offer her a job on the road with me.

Dear Mr. Vega: I felt it necessary to follow up on today’s meeting, since we weren’t able to speak candidly in front of your son. I was shocked to discover that you are Ryder’s dad. I think it would be best if we just pretend that we met in person for the first time today. Your son is a very bright (flirtatious and talkative) student and since his education is a top priority for both of us, I hope I can count on you to respectfully refrain from grinning at me, using that sexy tone of voice, and undressing me with your annoyingly beautiful brown eyes....

When I was a kid, my dad was the gardener for the richest man in town. His daughter, Lily Barnes, told me she could never like a guy like me. Then she kissed me and told me it would never happen again. When it happened again, she told me she could never love me because she was going to leave this place, and I would never leave my dad. We were never quite friends, not exactly enemies, and we could never quite stop secretly kissing each other. She never said goodbye before running off to try to make it as an actress. That was her dream, and I wanted her to chase it.

What's the actual last thing you'd ever want your executive assistant to see you doing the morning after you had hot, drunk, angry sex with her in a terrible hotel room? Dancing around your terrible hotel room to "Come and Get Your Love" like Star-Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy - naked? Yeah. Me too. And yet, here we are.

Being a veteran quarterback means I’m a mentally alert, fine-tuned athletic machine who can make split-second decisions. It’s my job to anticipate what’s going to happen next. But I couldn’t have anticipated the death of our beloved team owner, or his estranged daughter, Hannah Strong, inheriting the Boston Tomcats. She’s stubborn, uptight, infuriating, and wrong about absolutely everything. I can’t stop arguing with her. Or thinking about her. And I don’t want to talk about how good she looks in a skirt. Or how good she’d look out of it. Really, I don’t.

Dear Fiona: I hope this letter finds you well - and by well, I mean significantly less infuriated than you were yesterday. I’ve wanted to continue our conversation from the night we met, but there are so many things I can’t say or do, now that I’m your professor. As an anonymous letter writer, I can give you some idea of what I have planned for us, once the year is over. As an author, I can share my work in progress with you. Not for you to critique but to show you how much you mean to me. 

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”.

It started when I hosted a little party for a bunch of new friends. Though “friends” might not be the right word since the invitees were all the women I’d found out my boyfriend was talking to behind my back. When the guest of honor walked in—aka my now ex—things took a turn…. Unfortunately, a stranger witnessed the whole blowout. I was in a mood that night and ended up giving this gorgeous guy an attitude, too. As if my night could get any worse, before he stormed off, he informed me he was actually my landlord.

The day I showed up to Dax Moody’s sprawling home, I had no idea what was coming. As a traveling massage therapist, I was used to entering the houses of strangers. But this assignment was different from any before it. From the outside, I’d correctly assumed the owner was rich. What I didn’t realize was that he would be younger than I’d imagined, single, stunningly gorgeous, and mysterious.

Hockey star Max Yearwood was everything I needed at the time - fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months, since he’d signed with a new team 3,000 miles away. Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right? Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans. 

CEO millionaire Max Fletcher is a single dad in desperate need of a nanny. Cozy Barlow is in the middle of her self-appointed “gap year” and doing everything she can to detach from her past. But when her sister begs her to interview for the nanny position of a high-maintenance client, she doesn’t have a good enough reason to say no. And when Max locks eyes on the 20-something in a tie-dye sweat suit who pitches the idea of daydreaming all summer—he prepares to give this bad nanny the boot.

An unexpected steamy yet laugh-out-loud royal romance.

Dear grouchy neighbor: I’m considering your offer and need clarification before proceeding. Despite being an artist, I think you know that as a busy New Yorker, I am also practical and straightforward. That said, I need to make sure you know that this could never turn into anything serious. I don’t care if you’re trying to get over your ex-girlfriend or hoping she’ll eventually want to get back together with you - just don’t project your messy feelings about her onto me.

When I was a kid, my dad was the gardener for the richest man in town. His daughter, Lily Barnes, told me she could never like a guy like me. Then she kissed me and told me it would never happen again. When it happened again, she told me she could never love me because she was going to leave this place, and I would never leave my dad. We were never quite friends, not exactly enemies, and we could never quite stop secretly kissing each other. She never said goodbye before running off to try to make it as an actress. That was her dream, and I wanted her to chase it.

I don't want to be at this ridiculous frat party, and I certainly don't deserve to get it in the neck from a rude girl in a sparkly purple dress. But when she pushes me away, I feel like I'd do anything to get in her bed.  And when I find out she's forbidden fruit, I want her even more. I tell myself I'm only looking to fill her mouth with something other than smart talk, but it turns out my little spitfire has way more to her than meets the eye.

“I’m a virgin. And you need to relieve me of that.” What respectable guy could say no to that? Yeah, she was my best friend. But she was also the hottest chick I’d ever known. I thought it would be simple. I thought we’d have a good time, then pretend like it never happened. It turns out, I was an idiot. Now, she wants nothing to do with me, but I’m determined. I’ve spent the last five years without her, and I refuse to waste another day.

Growing up, it was always the three of us. Me, my twin brother, Kyle, and our best friend, Aiden. We were inseparable all the way through high school. Did I picture myself with Aiden from the first moment I laid eyes on him back when we were eight? Hell. Yes. I fell in love with his soul that day. But he was always more Kyle’s friend than mine. And Kyle made damn sure we both know the rules. I was strictly off limits. Forever. But now, Kyle is gone. Dead from a freak accident. And Aiden is still here.

Kylie's best friend Braxton is the hottest man she's ever known, with a rock hard body and a smile that melts the panties off every woman he meets. Except Kylie. Mostly. Kylie is anxious to get off the dating carousel and find something real. Despite the way Braxton tends to suck the air from her lungs, she knows he's trouble. He's just another player, and she's tired of the game. But Braxton isn't the man she thinks. The real reason he's sh*t with women is simple. None of the women he's with are the one he wants. None of them are Kylie. 

Tempt Me is a collection of five full-length novels from best-selling authors. This collection includes: Yours to Bare by Jessica Hawkins - A stand-alone contemporary romance, Show Me the Way by A.L. Jackson - A stand-alone single dad romance, Make Me Yours by Tia Louise - A stand-alone nanny/single dad romance, Breaker by Harloe Rae - A stand-alone brother's best friend romance, and Captain by Lauren Rowe - A stand-alone romantic comedy.

Camilla dreams of the day she can leave her life behind. Saying good-bye to the mother she's never been good enough for, to the bottles there's always money for, to the bills there's never money for - and most of all, to being the help in someone else's dream home. But the scholarship to her new private school that gives her a real chance at a future comes with one big catch: Hunter Beck.

This isn’t a story about a love triangle. There is no triangle involved. This isn’t a story about an accidental pregnancy. Although having a baby with her...I would. This isn’t a story about lies and deception, even though at times I’ve lied to myself. No, this is my story. A story about sacrifice. A story about a man who fell in love with the wrong girl. A story I wish I never had to tell. I learned a long damn time ago, the only way to achieve my dreams was to avoid distractions - at any cost.  

"Daddy" is not a title Rue Murray wanted, but he never thought he'd have sex with a woman either. Now he's the unwitting father of a newborn named Alice. Between bartending and cosmetology school, Rue doesn't have time for babies, but he can't give her up. What Rue needs is a babysitter, and he's running out of options. He's on the verge of quitting school to watch Alice himself when he remembers his reclusive new neighbor, Erik.

Everyone says opposites attract. And they must be right, because there’s no logical reason why I’m so drawn to Colin Fitzgerald. I don’t usually go for tattoo-covered, video-gaming, hockey-playing nerd-jocks who think I’m flighty and superficial. His narrow view of me is the first strike against him. It doesn’t help that he’s buddy-buddy with my brother. And that his best friend has a crush on me. And that I just moved in with them. Oh, did I not mention we’re roommates?

The things I want to do to my sweet, kindergarten-teaching, mitten-crocheting best friend Libby Collins are 10 different kinds of wrong. Maybe 20. But I'm a firm believer in teaching by example, and by the end of our first sex lesson, we've graduated to a hands-on approach to her education: my hands all over her, her hands all over me, and her hot mouth melting beneath mine as I prove to her there isn't a damned thing wrong with the way she kisses. 

Dean Evans is the worst. Not only does the devil in disguise steal my pie on a regular basis, he also lives in the apartment right. Next. Door. I see him all the time. At the mailboxes. In the elevator. Every single morning. It's exhausting because he's exhausting. Now, after setting his apartment on fire, he's my roommate, and he's the worst at that, too. I don't know what possessed me to let him stay with me. Pity, perhaps? I do know that I won't be falling for his charm.