Showing results by author "Vi Keeland" in All Categories

Finding a good roommate through a classified ad isn’t as easy as it sounds. I was starting to lose hope. Until a knock at my door came, and God answered my prayers. Except...uh...wrong prayer, God. I’d definitely requested the big guy find me a drop-dead gorgeous man on more than one occasion...just not as my roommate. Declan Tate talked me into interviewing him anyway. While he was amusing and charismatic, I wouldn’t have been comfortable living with a man, so I regretfully declined. Then, cupcakes showed up at my door.

Hockey star Max Yearwood was everything I needed at the time - fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months, since he’d signed with a new team 3,000 miles away. Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right? Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans. 

The first time I met Caine West was in a bar. He noticed me looking his way and mistakenly read my scowling as checking him out. When he attempted to talk to me, I set him straight -- telling him what I thought of his lying, cheating, egomaniacal ass. You see, the gorgeous jerk had wined and dined my best friend-smooth talking her into his bed, all along failing to mention that he was married. He deserved every bit of my tongue-lashing and more for what he'd done.

It started when I hosted a little party for a bunch of new friends. Though “friends” might not be the right word since the invitees were all the women I’d found out my boyfriend was talking to behind my back. When the guest of honor walked in—aka my now ex—things took a turn…. Unfortunately, a stranger witnessed the whole blowout. I was in a mood that night and ended up giving this gorgeous guy an attitude, too. As if my night could get any worse, before he stormed off, he informed me he was actually my landlord.

Avant même de rencontrer Donovan Decker, je connaissais sa pointure. Figurez-vous qu'après un déplacement de quelques jours, dans ma hâte de quitter l'aéroport, je me suis trompée de valise. Après avoir découvert ses chaussures hors de prix et ses costumes sur mesure, j'ai composé le numéro inscrit sur l'étiquette du bagage en espérant que Mister Gros Sous aurait récupéré le mien. C'est une voix grave tout en velours qui m'a répondu, et la chance était de mon côté, parce qu'il avait bel et bien ma valise. Donovan et moi nous sommes donné rendez-vous dans un café pour procéder à l'échange.

It started out like any normal day. Then the fender bender happened. The guy I collided with drove an expensive car and was drop-dead gorgeous. Too bad he was also a total jerk. We argued over whose fault it was and any other thing that came out of his condescending mouth. Eventually, the police came and we went our separate ways. The insurance companies would have to figure things out. I had a job interview to get to anyway - one I was excited about. Though that excitement changed to disappointment the moment the person interviewing me walked in. The guy from the accident. 

I’d never forgotten him - a man I’d yet to meet. Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break. Until one day, it did. Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one - one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing. Griffin forgave me, and we were able to rekindle our childhood connection.

Terminated for inappropriate behavior. I couldn’t believe the letter in my hands. Nine years. Nine damn years I’d worked my butt off for one of the largest companies in America, and I was fired with a form letter when I returned home from a week in Aruba. All because of a video taken when I was on vacation with my friends - a private video made on my private time. Or so I thought.... I cracked open a bottle of wine and wrote my own letter to the gazillionaire CEO telling him what I thought of his company. I didn’t think he’d actually respond.

My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards. We met at a wedding. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction. I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me. We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.

C'était un lundi comme les autres. Jusqu'à ce que le big boss me demande de faire une présentation pour un futur client. Après deux ans à marcher sur des œufs au travail à cause de ma bourde, cette occasion de faire bonne impression devant les associés était une chance à saisir. Ou du moins, je le croyais... Jusqu'à ce que, en entrant dans la salle de réunion, je heurte de plein fouet l'homme que je devais tenter de convaincre. Mon café s'est renversé, mes dossiers ont dégringolé sur le sol et j'ai failli perdre l'équilibre. Et encore, ce n'était pas le pire.

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.

La première fois que j’ai rencontré Max Yearwood, j’avais rendez-vous avec lui sans l’avoir encore jamais vu. Max était incroyablement beau et drôle, et notre alchimie a tout de suite crevé le plafond. Il avait aussi d’adorables fossettes. Pile ce dont j’avais besoin après ma séparation. Ou du moins, c’était ce que je croyais… Jusqu’à ce que l’homme avec qui j’avais réellement rendez-vous arrive. Il s’avère que ce n’était pas Max que je devais rencontrer ce soir-là. Il s’était simplement prêté au jeu avant l’arrivée de mon véritable compagnon d’un soir. Dire que j’étais déçue serait un euphémisme.

When I first encountered Ford Donovan, I had no idea who he was...well, other than the obvious. Young, gorgeous, successful, smart. Did I mention young? If I did, it bears repeating. Ford Donovan was too young for me. Let’s back up to how it all started. My best friend decided I needed to start dating again. So, without my knowledge, she set up a profile for me on a popular dating site - one that invited men ages 21 to 27 to apply for a date.

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.

Surtout ne pas tomber amoureux ! Natalia et Hunter sont d'accord sur une chose : ils ne souhaitent pas se lancer dans une relation sérieuse. Natalia sort d'une relation qui a mis à mal sa confiance en la gent masculine : l'homme qui partageait sa vie est en prison pour escroquerie et lui a laissé sa fille adolescente à élever. Alors quand elle rencontre Hunter lors du mariage d'amis communs, elle admet volontiers qu'il lui plaît assez pour passer une nuit avec lui mais elle ne souhaite pas aller plus loin.

La dispute entre Weston Lockwood et moi a commencé à l'autel. Si ce n'est qu'aucun de nous n'a assisté au mariage en question et que les noces ont eu lieu plusieurs décennies avant nos naissances respectives. Nos grands-pères étaient meilleurs amis et associés d'affaires, du moins jusqu'au mariage de mon grand-père... quand sa future femme lui a annoncé qu'elle ne pouvait pas l'épouser parce qu'elle était amoureuse du grand-père de Weston. Les deux hommes ont passé des années à se battre pour Grace Copeland, qui n'était autre que leur troisième associée d'affaires.

It started out like any other Tuesday. I spent 12 hours writing algorithms for one of the largest companies in the world and then came home to work on a pet project of mine—feeding facts about the men I knew into a formula to find my perfect match before my twenties came barreling to a close.

Mon histoire d'amour a commencé par une lettre. Seulement, elle ne venait pas de l'homme dont j'allais finir par tomber amoureuse. Elle avait été rédigée par son adorable petite fille, Birdie Maxwell, qui l'avait envoyée au magazine pour lequel je travaillais. Une fois par an, mon employeur réalisait certains des souhaits de ses lecteurs. Seulement, cette rubrique ne rouvrirait pas avant plusieurs mois. Alors, j'ai décidé de me charger moi-même des vœux de la fillette.

Rule number one for dating your best friend’s sister: Don’t. Just don’t do it. Especially when your best friend is dead and the last thing he made you promise him was that you’d keep an eye on his little sister, but not too good of an eye.

Licenciée pour comportement inconvenant. J'avais du mal à croire la lettre entre mes mains. Neuf ans. Pendant neuf foutues années, je m'étais démenée pour l'une des plus grosses boîtes d'Amérique, et voilà que je me faisais virer par une lettre officielle à mon retour d'une semaine de vacances à Aruba. Tout cela à cause d'une vidéo prise pendant mes congés avec mes amis, une vidéo privée enregistrée pendant un moment privé. Ou du moins, c'était ce que je pensais...