Résultats de "Pippa Grant" dans Toutes les catégories

Meet the Copper Valley Fireballs, baseball's lovable losers whose hot heroes are determined to turn this team around and resisting finding love along the way! This box set includes four full-length romantic comedies and a bonus novella.

Three lifelong best friends go to a destination wedding...and nothing will ever be the same.

Welcome to Happy Cat, Georgia, where the men are hot, the romance is swoon-worthy, and the animals don’t play by the rules. This box set includes four stand-alone but linked romantic comedies, as well as a bonus novella featuring a British single dad who’s head-over-heels for his nanny.

A single dad, an underwear model, a baker, and baseball-loving former boy band member find love with four fun, incredible women in this compilation of the first three books and a spin-off from Pippa Grant’s Copper Valley Bro Code romantic comedy series.

That didn’t turn out the way I planned it. All I wanted was five minutes with Oliver Cumberland to explain to him that proposing to my sister—again—is a bad idea. Instead, I’m now trapped in his car, on a cross-country road trip I didn’t anticipate, attempting to talk the grumpy billionaire out of something much, much worse than an arranged marriage for business purposes. I don’t care if Mr. Square Jaw McMoneyPants wants to give away his entire fortune and disappear to live out his life working the popcorn counter at a movie theater or whatever in Podunk, USA.

The Bride’s Runaway Billionaire is a deliciously juicy and utterly swoony romcom featuring a jaded optimist who’s had enough of the limelight, a happy-go-lucky celebrity whose world has been upside down since that fling after his divorce, the most adorable two-year-old on the planet, and a chicken with an attitude. While this book stands alone, you won’t go wrong to listen to The Worst Wedding Date, The Gossip and the Grump, and The Last Eligible Billionaire first.

He's a billionaire heir. A grump supreme. Hater of people. Bigger hater of peopling with people. And my new fake boyfriend. "Emotionally unavailable" doesn’t even begin to describe Hayes Rutherford. He has more defenses than a nuclear missile silo. And he’s the ultimate catch of the century. At least, according to his bank statement. My job’s simple: Keep all interested ladies away from the walled-off heir, by pretending to be his one true love. But you know what they say about fake-dating a billionaire: It’s all fun and games, until the scandals start.

Mister McHottie is the hilariously sexy prequel to the Copper Valley Thrusters series, where you’ll first meet the twin tank hockey players who inspired the next books. It comes complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks between a billionaire boss and the woman he tormented as a child, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

I didn’t know bridesmaid was code for babysitter for the bride’s brother, but if that’s what my best friend needs of me for her dream wedding to go off without a hitch, that’s what I’ll do. Even if Theo Monroe has been a pain in my rear since third grade. Even if he should be responsible enough to not wreak havoc at his sister’s destination wedding.

Beauty and the Beefcake is a vegan-friendly standalone romantic comedy featuring a hockey player whose vocabulary is the only thing smaller than a hockey puck, a book smart but aimless ventriloquist with too many voices in her head, a dilapidated old house that may or may not be haunted, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

I might be the only person not obsessed with Simon Luckwood, Hollywood's hottest leading man and the newest part-time resident of my little hometown. I don’t trust the way he’s always smiling. No one smiles that much. And I’m clearly missing something, because I don’t get why the character Simon played on his weird hit TV show is so popular. But revenge is a dish best served cold, just like the dishes on the menu at the restaurant my ex stole from me.

You’d think nearly dying trying to get out of a too-tight gown in a dressing room and being saved by a strong, competent man was a good thing. Not so much, though, when that strong, competent man is your ex. Your secret ex. And the reason you need a gown is because you’re part of a charity auction. The charity auction where he gets into a bidding war to win you. And now, because you’re one of few female coaches in professional baseball, and he’s the captain of the local professional hockey team, and he paid a ridiculous sum of money for you…

When you work hard and have the bank account to prove it, you're entitled to play hard. I've seen some crazy things. I've caused some crazy scenes. And there's no shame in my game. But I'm still knocked off my stilettos when an insane chain of events leads to me inheriting a baby. The craziest part? The baby comes with a by-the-books, no-nonsense retired Marine who's so regimented that I wouldn't be surprised if he irons his boxer shorts.

He's the last man I should've picked for a one night stand. See that guy over there? The insanely tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, scowling, “I don’t drink coffee” suit? Surprise! He’s the new owner of my family’s mountain café.

It was supposed to be an easy house- and dog-sitting gig while the owner was gone for a month. But when my sportsing landlord comes home unexpectedly, injured and in need of a new arrangement, we end up as accidental roommates instead. But if Holt Webster, the tall, thick-muscled, square-jawed, broody-eyed rugby player, had told me he played for the Copper Valley Pounders, I would’ve told him that my stepdad bought the team while I was working cruise ships overseas.

Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend. Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet. Target: Grady Rock. Master baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends. Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me.

There are two kinds of women in the world - those I can bang, and those I can’t. My teammate’s sister? She’s a can’t. I moved in with her to protect her from a nasty ex, not to be the next guy in line. She’s the brains. I’m the brawn. She’s the fruit. I’m the sausage. She talks too much. I don’t talk at all, if I don’t have to. Should be easy to resist her.

Call it superstition, but when a guy bats as hot as Brooks Elliott, you don’t mess with what’s working. And what’s working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field. So when I hear he’s planning to ditch his V-card now that he’s been traded to baseball’s lovable losers - a.k.a. my home team and my reason for living every March through October - I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do. I make a plan to stop him. But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him. Lots. And lots. And lots of time.

You know those stories where an adorably misunderstood, clumsy girl needs a fake date to a wedding so she asks her brother’s best friend and they accidentally fall in love? I wish that was the kind of life I lead, but it’s not. I don’t need a date to a wedding. I need a date to a funeral. And I don’t have a brother, or a best friend with a brother available, which means I’m stuck with Tyler Jaeger. Sure, he’s a professional hockey player who also knows advanced calculus, but let’s say we’re not compatible and leave it at that. I should know. I am a matchmaker.

There are three things I hate: Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett. Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It's been 10 years since he took my virginity - I'd make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a brat-best joke, and yes, it kills me to admit that - and now he's not only a billionaire, he's also my new boss.