Football club lawyer Santino Rossi is known in the locker room as the two-month chump. For years, he’s been on a mission to find someone he can share his basil plant with and cure him of his former playboy ways. Tilly Logan is a fiery, Scottish lass who didn’t bat an eye five years ago when a smoldering Italian pulled her into a nightclub bathroom. He was dark, dangerous, and exactly the good time Tilly was looking for - even if he worked for her overprotective brother’s team. But a lot has changed.

Maggie's mind is reeling when she discovers the guy she became tangled up with at Marv's Bait & Tackle isn't a stranger like she thought. The big snag: Sam and Maggie's chemistry is hot enough to melt ice, which makes keeping their secret far more difficult than either expected. Especially when one of them decides they want this arrangement to be more than just a catch and release.

Three things Lynsey Jones knows about the hot doctor: he's grouchy, an arrogant jerk, and strangely obsessed with pie. Three things Dr. Josh Richardson knows: He doesn't talk about his past, he doesn't do relationships, and the crazy girl in the hospital cafeteria who ate a fistful of French silk pie...is annoyingly irresistible. After a chance meetup at a bar and a heated cab ride together, things come to a head. Three months later, the weird cafeteria stalker who crept out of Josh's house like a thief in the night winds up as his patient in the ER after her Tinder date from hell.

When romance novelist Kate Smith suddenly gets writer's block as she's beginning the final installment of her international best-selling erotic Bed 'n Breakfast series, she'll do pretty much anything to get her groove back. Like sneak into a Tire Depot waiting room because her words flow there just like complimentary coffee - smooth, sweet, and scorchingly hot. She manages to fly under the radar until the rugged and charming mechanic, Miles Hudson, notices the quirky redhead slinking in and out of the employees-only entrance. But she's way too intriguing to blow the whistle on.

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.

They say that all men are created equal. Well, that’s a blatant lie! I know, because I met God's gift to women in Vegas; I pretended he was my husband to get rid of another man. He took our fake marriage seriously, and it became his personal goal to consummate. He spoke to me in French, and I lied to him in German. His laughter was addictive. But I thought what happens in Vegas would stay in Vegas. Until it didn't.

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?

The first time I met Hudson Rothschild was at a wedding. I’d received an unexpected invitation to one of the swankiest venues in the city. Hudson was a groomsman and quite possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. He asked me to dance, and our chemistry was off the charts. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with him, considering the wedding I was at. But our connection was intense, and I was having a great time. Though the fun came to a screeching halt when Hudson figured out I wasn’t who I’d said I was.

I’m your neighborhood hot-mess single mom, doing my best to keep my head above water while running my little slice of heaven and keeping my youngest from shoving marbles up his nose - which is exactly what he’s doing the first time Levi Wilson, pop star god, world’s sexiest man, and my all-time number-one celebrity obsession, walks into my bookstore. And we had a moment. Like, a moment-moment. So when he proposes a no-strings fling? Count. Me. In. Thrill of a lifetime, right? Surely, nothing will go wrong.

There are a few things you should know about my brother’s roommate. Wolfie Cox is complicated, and incredibly sexy. Unfortunately, he has an impressive stick lodged so far up his ass, he’s about as emotionally available as a chinchilla. Actually, that might be an insult to the chinchilla community. So, naturally, I want to ride him like a bicycle.

Unemployed. Check. Zero prospects. Check. An eviction notice in hand. Check. Life in shambles? Check. Check. Check. Desperate to avoid living on my sister’s couch, I took a job in the one place I shouldn’t. That's where I first saw him. Drew Lawson. Elusive bad boy. Owner of the hottest club in the city. And apparently my new boss. 

On and off the field he’s at the top of his game. Roan respects hard work, dedication, and follow through. He’s not a one-and-done kind of man, and he’s far from being done with Allie Harris. One sexy night and two years later, Allie’s job brings her back to town. An opportunity for the perfect replay Roan has been fantasizing about since they slept together. 

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.

Camden Harris, the famously hot, hulk of a footballer is laid up in a London hospital. But his busted knee doesn't stop him from running his well-practiced game on Indie Porter - his redheaded spitfire of a doctor. She's not his type, not even close. But she could be the perfect distraction from the soul-crushing damage this injury could cost him.

I’ve tried to like Adrian Savage, the mercurial frontman for Fugitive Summer, while serving as his band’s opening act on tour. We’re stuck together for three months, after all. And I’m well aware I’m lucky to be here. But it’s proved impossible. He’s far too rude and dismissive a guy to get along with. And way too good at getting under my skin. In fact, at this point, I think it’s fair to say I downright hate his guts.