Jennibop

Lucie Redway knows one thing for certain: her best friend will have the most perfect destination wedding. She may not know if she’ll still have her agony aunt column next month, or if her love life will ever be more exciting than a midnight swipe right, but Lucie would rather exhaust herself than let Stacey down on her Big Day. Not even Charlie, the insufferably attractive and hateful best man, can get in her way. Before the flight touches down in Spain, Lucie is hit with a curveball. Sat next to world-famous psychic Miranda Bloom, she’s told she’ll leave the wedding with the love of her life.

Indomitable and bold in an era of royalty and rogues, Skye O'Malley is a woman who embraces her unbridled sensuality as valiantly as she fights for her children, her lovers, her empire. A woman of justice and honor, she will match wits with and challenge the most dangerous and powerful woman of her time: Queen Elizabeth I.

Philadelphia school teacher Kady Parks discovers she’s the heir - along with half-sisters she didn’t know existed - to the Steele fortune, including a real-life cattle ranch. Instead of spending her summer break at home, she’s in Barlow, Montana. And the West is as wild as she imagined, for two hot cowboys have decided to lay claim, taking her for one wild ride. And Kady? She’s ready to dig in her spurs and hang on tight.

Pack rule number one: Never reveal to a human. I broke that rule the day I met the beautiful doctor. I might be a rodeo champ, but one look at her, and I lost my concentration. The bull tossed and gored me, and now the sweet female is on to me. When I healed within hours, she knew something wasn’t right. My alpha told me to watch her. Not a problem. I’ll watch her all right. Real close. I’ll stick to her like superglue. And those human men who want to date her? They’d better step back. Because the doctor is all mine. Whether she knows it yet or not.

Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good. But as they say, all good things come to an end. One year later, I’m a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed-and-breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job - deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there.

In the New Republic, every woman must marry five men. It’s the law. Welcome to the apocalypse. Includes Theirs to Protect, Theirs to Pleasure, and Theirs to Wed.

Written with the compassionate language that people have come to rely upon and expect from these proven relationship experts, this book goes beyond an explanation of the condition to help men and women avoid the self-destructive permanence of remaining with people incapable of loving anyone but themselves.

Author Vitale Buford spent nearly three decades of her life in the web of perfection. She was praised for being an "easy child", "pretty", and "self-motivated", so that's what she tried to be. Her need for perfection and outside success was coupled with her body-image obsession. It was also a distraction from the pain of abandonment and loneliness she experienced in her childhood. When she tied her self-worth to her external success and her appearance, her addiction to perfection was born.

Ever have one of those days where life just plain sucks? Welcome to my last three months - ever since I caught my can’t-be-soon-enough-ex-husband cheating with his paralegal. I’m 35 years old, and I’ve lost my NYC apartment, my job, my money, and frankly, my dignity. But the final heartache in the suck sandwich of my life? My great-aunt Maggie died. The only family member who’s ever gotten me. Even after death, though, she’s helping me get back up again. Too bad that bravado only lasts as long as it takes to drive into Huckleberry Hills. And see the house.

Marry the girl I've had a crush on my whole life. Check. Inherit a $100 billion company. Check. Produce an heir...Wait. What? I have 90 days to knock up my brand-new fake wife. There's only one problem: she hates my guts. And in the fine print of the contract? The requirement that we produce an heir. She can't stand to be in the same room with me and says she'll never be in my bed. But I've never backed down from a challenge, and I'm not about to start now. Mark my words, I'll have her begging for me, and it won't take 90 days.