Résultats de "Melanie Harlow" dans Toutes les catégories

Five small town sisters. Five heart-stopping heroes. Five captivating stories that will make you smile, swoon, and fall in love with romance again!

I almost didn't believe it was him. In high school, Sebastian Pryce had been an aloof outsider who kept to himself. But now, 10 years later, he's back and unusually attractive. With muscles in all the right places and hands that know exactly what they're doing, Sebastian is everything I didn't know I needed. And while he isn't exactly friendly, he has a magnetism that draws me in.

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.

Whether you’re a return visitor or discovering Cloverleigh Farms for the first time, this collection has something for everyone! A grumpy firefighter single dad who falls for the sunshine girl next door. Two frenemies whose chemistry explodes when they’re stranded in a motel room during a blizzard (spoiler alert: there’s only one bed). Best friends who discover their feelings are real when they pretend to be engaged. A curvy heroine who falls for her ex’s dad.

I didn’t realize who the gruff, gorgeous older man was the night he rescued me from a creep in a Manhattan hotel. All I knew was that a hot, bearded stranger with a protective streak showed up right when I needed a reminder that real gentlemen still exist.

I’m a full-time single dad to three daughters and CFO at Cloverleigh Farms. I don’t have time to fall in love - I’m too busy trying to run a business, keep the red socks out of the white laundry, and get the damn pillowcases on without owing a dollar to the swear jar. Sure, Frannie Sawyer is beautiful and sweet, but she’s 27, the boss’ daughter, and my new part-time nanny - which means she’s completely off-limits. It’s bad enough I can’t stop fantasizing about her. What kind of jerk would I be if I acted on the impulse to kiss her?

Je suis père célibataire à plein temps de trois filles et directeur financier chez Cloverleigh Farms. Je n'ai pas le temps de tomber amoureux ? je suis trop occupé à essayer de gérer une entreprise, à empêcher les chaussettes rouges de se mélanger avec le linge blanc, et à mettre ces fichues taies d'oreiller sans devoir mettre une pièce dans le bocal des gros mots.

Xander Buckley might be hotter than a stolen blow torch, and I get that he’s a former Navy SEAL and all, but the man gives new meaning to the words overbearing, overprotective, bossy alpha male. I can’t even post a photo on social media without him warning me it’s not safe or take a morning jog without him following behind. But he’s made it clear that what he says goes, and if I don’t like it, I can kiss my vacation goodbye. Instead, I end up kissing him.

He’s my brother’s best friend, the hot single dad next door. And one accidental sext later, my massive crush on him is no longer a secret. It’s my own damn fault. I’m 30 years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a (reasonably) responsible adult. I should know better than to get tipsy and draft a fake text listing all the dirty things I wish Officer Cole Mitchell would do to me. I wasn’t supposed to hit send. And he wasn’t supposed to see it.

Jack Valentini isn't my type. Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave. Jack might be gorgeous, but he's also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a "rich city girl" like me, and he isn't afraid to say so. But I've got a PR job to do for his family's farm, so he's stuck with me and I'm stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles. His huge, hard muscles.

Getting hitched is the only way I can inherit Snowberry Lodge, and I’ll do anything to spare my childhood home from the wrecking ball–even wear Devlin Buckley’s ring on my finger. Not that I’ll enjoy it. Sure, he’s charming and handsome, and that no-last-names one night stand we shared ended with a fantastically big bang (I saw stars I hadn’t seen in six months, if you catch my drift). But I’ll never trust him–he was working for the company trying to bulldoze my life. Right up until the day he knocked on my door with an offer I couldn’t refuse.

You might think I had it all - a career I loved, a supportive family, the Nixon metabolism but not the Nixon ears, and a salary that supported my lavish taste in designer shoes, fine wine, and lacy lingerie - but I had no one to share it with. Until the day I ran into him - my one-night stand from college with the crooked smile, let's-get-out-of-here eyes, and dirty, dirty mouth. Cute and cocky then, today Levi Brooks is six feet four inches of hot bearded fantasy.

Quand nous avions onze ans, Oliver Ford Pemberton m'a défiée de sauter du toit d'une grange. Il disait qu'on ne pouvait pas se casser une jambe en sautant de 3,5 mètres. Il mentait. (On peut aussi se casser une clavicule, ce qui, selon moi, était bien fait pour lui.) J'aimerais pouvoir dire que c'était le dernier défi que j'ai relevé de sa part, le dernier pari que j'ai fait avec lui, la dernière fois que j'ai fait confiance à Oliver Ford Pemberton. Mais ce n'était pas le cas. Parce qu'il a eu le culot de devenir beau, charmant et sexy.

When Blair Beaufort literally crashes into Bellamy Creek wearing a ball gown and a tiara, I should have towed her car, said goodnight, and sent her packing. I’m a mechanic, not a hotel manager. I've got enough on my plate trying to keep my shop from going under, my overbearing mother off my back, and my baseball team in contention for the league championship. I don’t have time for a former debutante with zero street smarts and a cash flow problem, even if she is crazy beautiful. But I know better than to think it can last. She wants a fairy tale, and I’m no prince.

Just friends. That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been. Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family’s ranch. Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were 17. And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis? He makes a girl sweat just looking at him...and I look. A lot. But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father.

Yes, I’m a single dad who needs a nanny for the summer. But hiring the stranded runaway bride who shows up on my doorstep in a wedding gown with no references, no skills, and no experience? No one is that desperate.

The last person on earth I want to be stranded with is Gianni Lupo. But, thanks to the blizzard of the century, I’m trapped in a roadside motel room with that cocky bastard for two straight days, and with one small bed. Some women might thank Mother Nature for delivering a polar vortex that maroons them with six feet of solid muscle, those deep blue eyes, that sexy grin - but not me. I’ve known Gianni Lupo all my life, and he’s never brought me anything but bad luck, and trouble. I should have known what the disastrous end result would be.

I didn’t mean to say I was engaged to a hot billionaire–it just slipped out. In my defense, I’d had a really bad haircut, a really strong drink, and I was trying to save face in front of the Mean Girl at my high school reunion. Lucky for me, I happen to know a hot billionaire. Hutton French and I have been friends forever, and even though big social gatherings are not his thing, I called him from the coat closet and begged him for a favor–show up and play my fake fiancé for the night. Except that word of our engagement spreads like wildfire.

Only in the movies does the Hollywood heartthrob fall for the small town diner waitress. So when Dashiel Buckley returns to Cherry Tree Harbor for a wedding, I’m determined not to let my massive crush on my best friend’s older brother hijack my good sense.

Theo MacLeod wasn't supposed to be the one. Tall, dark and handsome suits me just fine, but the cocky grin, know-it-all attitude, and mammoth ego? No thanks. I only hired him so I wouldn't have to sit at the singles table again. It was just pretend. He wasn't supposed to kiss me. My heart wasn't supposed to pound. We weren't supposed to spend the night together - the hottest night of my life.