The contract with Major League Soccer was supposed to help repair my damaged reputation. Then I discovered that I’d made a deal with the devil: The player I’m supposed to recruit is none other than the bad-boy star Premier League footballer Rush McKenzie. British. Tattooed. Sexy. A man currently at the center of a huge scandal. The goal? To convince him to stay in the States. But what’s wrong with a little fun in the meantime? No strings. No sweet nothings. Just a way to pass the time while we’re both struggling to prove our true selves to the world. 

I’ve signed numerous players to my family’s agency - I assumed winning over my next client would be just as easy. The last thing I expected was to run into the boy who took my first kiss and broke my heart: only now Drew Bowman is all grown up. Sexy. Scandal-tainted. Second-string. The crush I never got over. aI tell myself work is the reason I can’t get him out of my head. I tell him his talent far outweighs his position, and I know I can help. I lie and lie, because admitting that I want a second chance at my first love is impossible. 

I know finding and signing a military vet to the agency is a long shot - but it’ll be good press just letting him try out. That’s what I tell my family, rather than admit I can’t get the letter he wrote us five years ago out of my head. But what I tell the bartender in his hometown is a lie. I know veterans protect each other. So I pretend to be a graduate student. Sparks. Flame. Fire. I accidentally got in too deep. I didn’t expect to develop feelings for Gunner Camden. And there’s no way I can admit to my lies now.

The most important thing I’d ever read was scribbled on the door of a portable restroom, engraved into plastic at a carnival on the outskirts of Boston. Lust lingers, love stays. Lust is impatient, love waits. Lust burns, love warms. Lust destroys, but love? Love kills. Maybe it was always my destiny to fall in love with a monster. When other kids stayed awake at night fearing the pointy-toothed beast hiding in their closet, I longed to see mine.

Donovan and I met at a coffee shop to do the suitcase exchange. Turned out, it wasn’t just his voice that was sexy. The man holding my luggage was absolutely gorgeous, and we had an immediate spark. He got me to admit that I’d snooped in his bag and then convinced me to make it up to him by letting him buy me coffee. Coffee led to dinner, dinner led to dessert, and dessert led to spending an entire weekend together. So what did I do to repay him for his kindness? I waited until he was in the shower, then ghosted him.

How to screw up a great summer in the Hamptons: Sleep with your boss. Check. Blow all your money on a rental you can’t afford. Check. How to walk away from a man you fall in love with at the end of a summer: I’ll let you know when I figure it out.

They say Rafe Hunter is trouble with a capital T. I say - bring it on.  As long as Trouble comes in a package as delicious as Rafe’s, I’m ready to climb on his Harley and ride all night long - and I’m not just talking about his motorcycle. I can hide out until the scandal with my evil ex blows over and have a wild rebound at the same time. Besides, I’ve got no heart left to break. My ex made sure of that. As long as Rafe and I keep our no-strings fling from our families, what can possibly go wrong? 

How to kick off a great summer in the Hamptons: Snag a gorgeous rental on the beach. Check. Get a job at a trendy summer haunt. Check. How to screw up a great summer in the Hamptons: Fall for the one guy with a dark leather jacket, scruff on his face, and intense eyes that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the tony-looking crowd. A guy you can’t have when you’ll be leaving at the end of the season. Check. Check. Check. 

Hedge fund titan Marcus Carelli knows how to get what he wants, and he’s never wanted anything as much as he does Emma. The cat-loving redhead may have walked out of his life, but he's not about to let her go. Bookstore clerk Emma Walsh has had her heart broken by the ruthless billionaire once, and she's not about to forget it. Marcus can chase her down all he likes, but winning her back is another story. 

At 35, Marcus Carelli has it all: wealth, power, and the kind of looks that leave women breathless. A self-made billionaire, he heads one of the largest hedge funds on Wall Street and can take down major corporations with a single word. The only thing he’s missing? A wife who’d be as big of an achievement as the billions in his bank account.

Our first meeting was at a wedding, where he followed me outside and kissed me. Our second meeting ended in a huge fight with me kicking him out. Our third meeting, I went on a double blind date. You can imagine my surprise when I saw familiar blue eyes across the table opposite my friend. Then, he sent me an email listing 30 reasons why I should go on a date with him. His list was some of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever read. And the funniest. We laughed hard and loved harder. Wild, handsome players don’t fall for innocent girls like me. Or do they?

Life is smooth sailing until these new roomies find themselves stuck between a rock and a very hard place. Because lusting after the one person you shouldn't ever mess around with - your new roommate - is like cardinal rule number one. Get ready for four complete friends-to-lovers rom-com standalones: The Room Mate, The Play Mate, The House Mate, and The Soul Mate.

I’m not boyfriend material. If a trail of broken hearts and a piss-poor record of failed relationships have taught me anything, it’s this. My buddies are happy to give me shit about my latest breakup from here to next Sunday. Thanks, but I’d rather have a root canal. And a vasectomy. At the same time. Relief comes in an unlikely package - the gorgeous and feisty Maren. She just so happens to be my best friend’s sister, so that’s not awkward at all.

From NYT and USA Today best-selling author A.L. Jackson comes a friends-to-lovers romance about an unattainable rock star and his best friend’s younger sister.

Let me list the reasons why dating the sexy, charming pro hockey star is a bad idea: He’s one of my closest friends. All our friends are friends. The wounds I’ve got from past relationships go deep. And so do his. We’re both devoutly single - it’s just safer for the heart that way. But there’s no reason not to bid on the gorgeous, clever athlete at the charity auction this weekend. If I win, it’ll be a "friendsdate".