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.

The first time I met Charles Cavendish, I accidentally locked myself in a closet with him. The second time, he became my new boss. My very grumpy new boss. No matter how I much I try, I can’t forget what his lips feel like. The way his arms wrap around me. I need to keep my distance. But when the company lands a new account, I’m forced to work side by side with this man. The handsome devil who makes me forget all rational thought. But the thing about the devil is...he can lure even the greatest of saints.

My new neighbor is a firefighter - and a scorching-hot single dad - but I swear I didn’t set off that smoke alarm on purpose. (And I was beyond mortified when he rushed in and saw me naked.) Nothing happened, of course - because I, Winnie MacAllister, romance junkie and owner of a constantly broken heart, have sworn off men for one solid year. Even protective men with chiseled jaws, bulging biceps, and deep brown eyes that make my breath come faster. 

He was gorgeous, older and guarded. I knew he was trouble from the moment we locked eyes. We met at work, on my first day as a barista. He smiled, I melted...then he tasted my coffee and threw it away. Again, the next day, and the next. He hated the coffee, yet still came back. I knew his game. He called my coffee death in a cup. I called him god’s gift to women. I wasn’t lying.

The first letter arrived the day my husband was buried. It was postmarked from the state penitentiary, and contained a single sentence: I’ll wait forever if I have to. It was signed by Dante, a man I didn’t know.

I got pregnant from a one-night stand. I wasn’t going to tell the father...until I walked into the office and found out he’s my new boss. Here’s some advice: Don’t sleep with your boss. Here’s some more: Don’t sleep with your married boss. And while I’m at it: Don’t sleep with your married, dangerous, billionaire, completely incapable-of-feeling boss because all he’s going to do is break your heart and your body and leave you to cry in the ashes. But I’ve never been good at taking my own advice.

Am I friends with JP Cane? Ha! That's laughable. Besides the fact that he’s adopted some far-fetched notion from the movie When Harry Met Sally that says men and women can't be friends and work together, it’s safe to say we're not friends. He's annoyingly loud, obnoxiously handsome, and has made an art out of poking all my hot buttons...multiple times a day. So you can imagine how disgruntled I am when I not only have to fly to San Francisco with him for work, but stay in the same penthouse. Yup, we're sharing the same air, 24-7. We're talking full-fledged working roommates.

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. 

Ryot Bisley is my husband. Yes, the former third baseman for the Chicago Rebels and absolute heartthrob of the Windy City. That Ryot Bisley. The first time I ran into him, he was grumpy, a horrific host, and left me on his sofa with nothing but a nylon baseball flag to use as a blanket.

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.

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.

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

I don’t want to hurt him—I just want to punish him. It’s bad enough being the only female owner of the Salacious Players’ Club, but I’m also the only one without a kink, or so I thought. Imagine my surprise when the kink quiz suggests that I’m not so vanilla after all. In fact, I’m a lot more like Emerson Grant than I thought. Just one problem—I have no idea how to be a Domme. That is, until the app matches me with someone willing to help me learn.

I didn’t expect to see Rylee Creed after her brother’s funeral. That’s the initial reason my jaw hangs slack when she walks into Bent Pedal a month later. The loss of my friend hit me hard, but that’s nothing compared to the crash she’s endured. Grief and misery still shadow her every move. But she’s not alone.

I was stolen away and held prisoner in Italy, a bride for a mafia king's only heir. Except I'm no innocent, and it's the king himself—the man called il Diavolo—who appeals to me in sinful ways I never dreamed. Fausto's wickedness draws me in, his power like a drug. And when the devil decides he wants me, I'm helpless to resist him—even if it means giving myself to him, body and soul. He may think he can control me, but this king is about to find out who's really the boss.

Ford Dalton isn’t the kind of man I’d look at twice—because I can’t stop looking at him at all. We can’t take our hands off each other in the bar. Back at his house, it’s our lips. And in his bed? There isn’t a single part of us that’s not on fire. One night would never be long enough for Ford to show me every delicious thing he can do to my body. But there’s something he’s keeping from me: he’s already met the love of his life, his daughter Everly. And there’s something I’m keeping from him: I just applied for the job of my dreams, being Everly’s new nanny.

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.

Derek Alexander is a retired Marine, ex-cop, and the top investigator in his field. Melissa Jones is a small-town girl trying to escape her troubled past.

Reeling from the death of her daring Navy SEAL brother, reserved McKenzie Prescott decides to honor him in the only way she can think of—by finishing his bucket list. Suddenly, she's doing things she's never dreamed of—like jumping off waterfalls . . . and inviting the intoxicating stranger she meets in Las Vegas to help her with some of the more racy items on the list . . .

Years ago, I was burned by a woman. I forgave, but I haven’t forgotten, and it’s a road I’ll never go down again. My career has become my life instead. I’m Max Graham, the biggest music agent in the business. Women love me, but I don’t do love anymore. I’ve found another way to meet my needs. Eve Kennedy - stylist to the stars and total bombshell. By far, she’s the most daring woman I’ve ever had in my bed with a sexual appetite as ferocious as mine. We might just have the hottest sex life in Miami and LA. 

Ruthless mob boss buys an innocent fake wife. A kingdom of corruption—that is my birthright. But before my father gives me the throne that’s rightfully mine, I must fulfill one condition: I must find a wife....

The attraction was undeniable. I couldn't escape him. I didn't want to. I was his. He was mine. But he wasn't my husband. My once treasured marriage was now flawed and imperfect. By the time the guilt set in, it was too late. Reality was trying to keep me away from my obsession. My husband was that reality. My obsession was West. But West was forbidden. Taken. Married. We were swingers. It was the perfect arrangement. Until I fell in love....

Getting my first big client signed to the NFL was the second best moment of my life. Escorting his sister back to her hotel was the first. Imagining what she would feel like, look like, taste like - none of it was as good as the real thing. If her brother found out, it would destroy my career, so I ended things between us. Eight years later, the girl who got away still owns me.

How did I end up playing fake fiancée to a runaway criminal? Well, I was supposed to get married today—but that’s a whole other story.The part that matters is that I took the car and ran, still in my wedding dress. I promptly crash said car into a bridge, and when I get out to check the damage… I'm disoriented and fall right into the river below. That should’ve been it for little old me. Goodnight. Close the curtains. Roll the credits. Drowned by my own wedding dress—how morbidly appropriate. But then someone saves me.

For years after Shades had lost Skylar, he’d tried satisfying the emptiness of losing her with booze, women and the club. He’d turned his frustration at having to give her up into a determination to climb the ranks of the club, but he hadn’t counted on the fact that the pull he’d felt toward Skylar had only lain dormant in him all these years. Or that all it would take to reignite it was just one look at her. And he sure as hell hadn’t counted on her showing up on the back of a brother’s bike.

It was supposed to be a typical work trip. New York to San Francisco, window seat, exit row. Maybe a mimosa. Then, seat 14B sat down. When our eyes met, the flight became anything but routine. I could pinpoint the moments in my life where everything changed forever. Meeting Jared on that flight was first. Falling in love with him was second. Discovering the secrets he kept was third. Putting my broken self back together and forgetting what I learned would be difficult. Forgiving Jared would be impossible.

Liam Kincaid. Super grumpy. Super grouchy. Super tall, dark...hottie. Whose engagement I was responsible for breaking up. It was all a big mistake...honest. Only he doesn’t see it that way.