Sharing a summer house with a hot-as-hell roommate should be a dream come true, right? Not when it’s Justin…the only person I’d ever loved…who now hates me. When my grandmother died and left me half of the house on Aquidneck Island, there was a catch: the other half would go to the boy she helped raise. The same boy who turned into the teenager whose heart I broke years ago.

I've been dreading this for a year. Okay, that's a lie. I've been dreading this reunion since we graduated high school 10 years ago. So why am I here, standing outside the door like the eternal wallflower I am? I'd say it's because my younger sister browbeat me into it, but the truth is, I'm tired of being a nobody. Of never taking a risk with myself and my life. And...well...maybe I'm also hoping to see him. The tall, insanely gorgeous man walking my way now. Oliver Fritz is regarded as one of Boston's sexiest doctors. I know him as the former god of our school.

It was just a typical Monday. Until the big boss asked me to make the pitch for a prospective new client. After two years on shaky ground at work because of my screw up, an opportunity to impress the senior partners was just what I needed. Or so I thought, until I walked into the conference room and collided with the man I was supposed to pitch to. My coffee spilled, my files tumbled to the ground, and I almost lost my balance. And that was the good part of my day. Because the gorgeous man who crouched down and looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive was none other than my ex.

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.

The first time I met Dawson Reed, we wound up in bed. The problem was, neither of us knew the other were there. When I woke up in the middle of the night and found a stranger next to me, instinct kicked in and I attacked the intruder. Only it turned out, the man wasn’t an intruder at all. Dawson had rented this cabin, too. Apparently, a system glitch allowed a duplicate booking. We’d soon find out we were in town for the same wedding, and Dawson was the groomsman I’d been warned about. He was as tall, dark and jaw-droppingly gorgeous as my best friend had described.

After failing my last semester of grad school, I decided to come back to my hometown and wallow in my boyfriend’s sympathetic arms. Instead, he proceeded to dump me...for being boring! Now, I'm not typically a spiteful person, but there's only so much I can take. Hence why I’m holding the box of his most cherished possessions...stolen possessions no less!

A new standalone novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author, Vi Keeland. The night I met Drew Jagger, he'd just broken into my new Park Avenue office. I dialed 9-1-1 before proceeding to attack him with my fancy new Krav Maga skills. He quickly restrained me, then chuckled, finding my attempted assault amusing. Of course, my intruder had to be arrogant. Only, turned out, he wasn't an intruder at all. Drew was the rightful occupant of my new office. He'd been on vacation while his posh space was renovated.

What's better than one sexy book? Four romance novels—packaged into one delicious audio bundle, narrated by Sebastian York! Bigger Rock is the only bundle for the number one New York Times best-selling Big Rock series, and it includes the first four audio books: Big Rock, Mister O, Well Hung, and Full Package.

It’s natural to want the one you can’t have. And for as long as I could remember, I’d secretly wanted my brother’s best friend, Jace. He was six years older and always treated me like the sister he never had. Fast forward a decade. We were all in our 20s now. Jace had moved in with my brother, Nathan, and me to help us make ends meet after our parents died. It was just the three of us - an odd family dynamic. Living under our roof, Jace was as bossy and protective as ever. But he certainly didn’t look at me like a sister anymore. That was what made things so complicated.

My name is Rachel Price, and two months ago, I walked away from the perfect man. Sweet and funny, and so hot it should be illegal—we shared one magical night. No names. No strings. I never thought I'd see him again. I was wrong. It turns out Mr. Perfect is the playboy grinder for the Jacksonville Rays, the NHL's hottest new hockey team . . . and I'm his new physical therapist. Oh, and the jerk doesn't even recognize me!

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.

Brutal, cold, and illegally gorgeous, Dante Sartorre isn't just mafia royalty. He's also the tyrant owner of the infamously deviant and members-only Club Venom. He's also my new husband. In my defense, I wasn't supposed to be the bride. But I sealed my fate when I saved my friend by signing the Venom Devil's marriage contract myself. Now, he owns me. All of me…

Flat on my back is not how I imagined meeting my new boss and hot-as-sin rock star. But here I am . . .If I didn’t already have amnesia, I’d be wishing for it now. In my defense, Laird Faris was only wearing a shameless smirk and a towel wrapped around his chiseled abs when we met. Brooding. Devastatingly handsome. Utterly intolerable. Naturally, I’m instantly attracted to him.

I'm writing this letter because it's highly doubtful I'll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. So, here goes. We're totally wrong for each other. You're the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I'm just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England. But here's the thing... for some bloody reason, I can't stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.

No one but me knew why I was actually in the California desert that day. Nestled deep within the desolate, rocky area was a recording studio. When a door suddenly opened, a man mistook me for someone he was supposed to be interviewing for a job. The next thing I knew, I was whisked inside. The position? An assistant on the upcoming tour for one of America’s most famous rock bands. Pretty exciting opportunity for a twenty-two-year-old, just out of college. Not surprisingly, I bombed the interview.