Résultats de "Emma Hart" dans Toutes les catégories

Conner Burke never expected Sofie Callahan to come back. Where she's been for the last two and half years is a mystery, and so is the reason she left in the first place. Now, though, she's back in their hometown of Shelton Bay, South Carolina, at the same time Conner's band Dirty B. is home on a tour break.

What I wanted for my birthday: Books. What I got for my birthday: my brother’s best friend playing matchmaker. Let it be known that I am 100 percent against being set up with somebody. And I’m 1,000 percent sure that Josh Carter's not the man to find me a boyfriend. I mean, if I’m so great, why isn’t he the one dating me? (For the record, I don’t know the answer. That’s just what the guy on the internet asked.) I’ll humor him. If I go on his little dates, he’ll teach my bookish, introverted self how not to be totally, completely, utterly, unforgivably awkward.

Bad idea number 241: sending a dirty text to your number neighbor. In my defense, my friends did it, too, and their neighbors took it as the joke it was. Mine didn't. He responded with a dirty text of his own. Next thing I know, I have a standing texting date every night at 10:30. Until I have to miss it because the stray kitten who adopted me one week ago is sick. The only person I know who can help me at this time of night is my British next-door neighbor and local vet, Isaac Cooper.

Let it be known that I, Holley Stuart, do not give a single rat's behind about pro baseball's star pitcher Sebastian Stone. I definitely don't care that he's standing in my bookstore. Nor do I care that he seems to have forgotten about the last time we saw each other: senior prom, when he both humiliated me and broke my heart, albeit unknowingly. Now, he needs a date to his sister's wedding. Don't ask me how I ended up being it - I have no idea. But that's the least of my problems. His grandfather is adamant we're dating, and Seb isn't in a hurry to convince him otherwise.

Let your homeless best friend stay with you, he said. Being roommates will be fun, he said. It's only temporary, he said. He never said I'd fall for him. You know what isn't temporary? The endless stream of dirty socks in my bathroom and empty food packets under the sofa - and don't even get me started on the hot guys who take over my living room every Sunday to watch sports. I can't take anymore. So I propose a roommate agreement. One that will bring peace and order back to my life, complete with rules that might just stop my newfound crush on my best friend in its tracks.

Don’t sleep with your best friend. Take it from me. I did it. And it was awful - I-wish-the-tequila-made-me-forget kind of bad. The problem is, Luke has forgotten. He swears that he can’t remember a thing about that night beyond the trays of tequila shots being set on the tables. But I can't forget. I can’t forget how good his hands felt until I fell over and hit my hip on the dresser, and I sure as hell can’t forget the entire two minutes.

Let it be known that I, Saylor Green, am wholeheartedly against blind dating. I think it’s superficial, unnecessary, and designed wholly to force people into relationships they aren’t ready for. So when Dylan Parker takes the seat across from me, I’m ready to dismiss him at one glance. The problem? He’s hot and funny and sweet and the exact kind of guy I read about in the romance novels I sell like hotcakes in my bookstore.

With all my best friends off the market, it’s time that I, Tori Sussex, join them. So where better to find my future husband than the internet? It’s great. I get to get all the awkward stuff out of the way and already know if I’m going to like the guy before we meet in person. It’s a shame nothing's ever that simple. My relationship with Colton Lane, my best friend’s brother, is the very definition of complicated - dirty little no-strings-attached hookups we’ve somehow managed to keep secret from all our friends for the past six months.

Imagine this. You're ready to leave after a one-night stand, and you're figuring out how to - shock horror - leave your number and ask him to be your fake boyfriend for your sister's wedding this weekend. When he wakes up. Well, that happened to me. And over coffee and omelets, I found myself a date. Which was how I ended up arriving at the wedding with a guy I knew nothing about.

I learned the hard way that being a handywoman isn't easy. The questions, the stares - the assumption that I'm the proud owner of a cock and balls. Not that it matters. I've proven over and over that I'm ready for anything the judgmental asses throw at me. Except the hot, single dad of twins who just moved to town. Brantley Cooper gets the shock of his life when I show up on his doorstep to fix up his kids' new rooms. His son is confused why 'the pretty lady has a drill,' and his daughter has a new obsession - me. On paper, my job is easy. Go in, do their bedrooms, and leave.

As the last woman standing, I, Piper Carter, am officially a loner. Apparently, that means it’s time for me to get out there and find myself a man. My protestations that I have no time for it falls on deaf ears, and the next thing I know, I’m on a blind date with someone my best friends assure me will be perfect for me. Maverick Donovan, a guy I, uh, know very, very well.

After four years living the single life, it’s decided that I, London Stuart, am back on the market. I’m not even mad when my cousins and best friends put my name down for the speed-dating sessions. In fact, I’m actually a little excited about it. But then one of my dates turns out to be my six-year-old son’s irresistibly sexy soccer coach - his irresistibly sexy British soccer coach.

As the daughter of Hollywood's sweetheart, Leah Veronica can't even buy a coffee without finding her face on a magazine stand, so it's no wonder she's launching her first fashion line in secret. With it debuting at New York Fashion Week in just under a month, extra time in the spotlight is the last thing she needs.

Tate Burke, the eldest of the Burke brothers and a member of the rock band Dirty B., is pure sex. Women actually throw their panties at him during shows. And Ella Dawson is the lucky little thing that gets to escort their fangirling butts out when he's done with them. Tate's a cocky son of a bitch, but there's more to him than meets the eye. Every now and then Ella gets a rare glimpse of the Tate behind the bad-boy act, and it attracts her in the most annoying way.

Top tip: Don't put out an online ad offering your services as a fake date. Someone will take you up on it - and it won't just be for one night. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up being Mason Jackson's fake girlfriend. He didn't even want me to be. No - his sister was solely responsible for me being his date for his 10-year high school reunion. And now, she's responsible for telling his parents our relationship is real. We have no choice. We have to act like this isn't all a mistake.

As the owner of Pick-A-D*ck, New Orleans' premier hook-up website, my job is simple. Connect two people for a no-strings, no-expectations hook-up. The plus for my clients is that I'm the one who gets to sift through the d*ck pics - except this time, they're required. My problem? My brother, co-owner of Pick-A-D*ck's sister dating site, doesn't believe it's possible to hook up with someone three times and not fall in love. I disagree. I know it's possible. And my disagreement is exactly how I end up reconnected with my high school nemesis, Elliott Sloane.

"Don't let the bastards get you down." For 26 years, I lived by my daddy's motto. Which is why "Mechanic Wanted" is all it takes for me to apply for the job at the garage we once owned. And I meet the biggest bastard of them all: Dexter Ryne. Hotter than hell in July and a firm believer that my place is on reception, taking phone calls, and looking pretty. Not getting dirty under the hood of a car. Determined to prove each other wrong, we make a deal.

My name is Adelaide Astley, and if there was anything remotely exciting about me to tell you, I would. Sure, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, and my mother bucked family tradition to marry “below” her and open a hotel, but I’m nothing but an aspiring author with a Tudor era obsession. Oh, and I’m spending the summer tutoring the daughter of the current Duke of Worcester. Alexander Winthrop-Bentley is so not my type, but hours of chess games and arguments over Tudor dynasties mean we’re thrown together more often than we should be.

My name is Lady Gabriella Hastings, and there are three things you need to know about me. One, my idiot brother will inherit the estate I’ve adored my entire life. Two, my father wants me to marry an idiot who has an estate like this. Three, my aunt’s goats keep escaping and terrorizing the public. Oh, and I have a huge crush on the gardener. But I have absolutely no time to sort out my own love life - because I’m too busy moonlighting as an online agony aunt to fix everyone else’s problems.

It’s not you. It’s me. No, seriously. It is me. Not only does my name literally mean “unfortunate”, but that’s the story of my life. Everything I touch turns to crap. An apartment fire - that I swear I was not responsible for - means I’m living back at home with my sex-mad parents. Yay, me! Which is why I need my new job as personal assistant to Cameron Reid to get back on my feet. Three months in this job and I can move back out and, hopefully, remember to turn off my flat iron once in a while.