Mostrando resultados por autor "Kate O'Keeffe" en Todas las categorías

I fell in love with Mr. Darcy on a reality TV show. Cue the happily ever after. Can you believe it? Me, Emma Brady, the girl who managed to turn reality TV humiliation into a real-life fairy tale, has fallen head over heels for my own Mr. Darcy while the entire nation watched. Yep, I'm the living proof that even the most unlikely of matches can light up the screen. And guess what? Hold onto your tiaras because now my Mr. Darcy has gone and proposed, complete with a promise of happily ever after in his posh English manor. Cue the confetti cannons and unicorns, right? Not so fast. Life ...

Taking the bull by the horns is child's play compared to ruling Malveaux. Yet here I am, a Texas girl turned princess, swapping tacos for a tiara. Then I meet Europe's most eligible bachelor, the irritatingly handsome Prince Alexander, and accidentally deck him instead of curtsying. Oops. I'd feel bad if he wasn't such a self-satisfied jerk. Now, I'm racing against a royal clock that ticks with the urgency of a preening peacock, trying not to let down my newfound country or my own wild heart. Alexander?

Have you ever faked a romance with the one guy who checks every box on your “absolutely not” list? I have. His name is Nick Zachary—New Zealand’s so-called “wild boy of rugby,” professional heartbreaker, and walking red flag. But desperate times call for mutually beneficial deals. He needs a reputation makeover. I need exposure for my struggling fashion label. So we strike a deal: I play his doting girlfriend in public. He plays nice for the cameras. We both get what we want. Easy enough… until it’s not. Because somewhere between staged hand-holding and fake kisses, I start ...

Cast in a reality dating show, Emma Brady isn’t looking for love. She knows it could be the big break her new activewear line desperately needs. But is putting up with a Mr. Darcy wannabe worth it? Sebastian Huntington-Ross is straight out of an Austen novel, and his looks are perfect for the show’s spotlight. But it’s hard to focus on his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and wickedly sexy accent when all Emma can see is his pride, arrogance, and smug demeanor.

I’m the queen of dating disasters - I’ve had more rotten dates than you can shake a long-stemmed rose at. After years of one disappointment after another, I’m beginning to feel like I’ll never say “I do.” So after being dumped one too many times, I do something stupid: I make a pact with my best friend Asher. If neither of us is married by 35, we tie the knot. I’ve got to meet Mr. Right by then, don’t I? But when I take a job redecorating Asher’s bachelor pad, I realize he’s a lot different from the guy I thought he was.

The boy I couldn’t forget just became the man I can’t resist. Alex Walsh is the last man I want to see again. He’s charming, talented, maddeningly handsome—and the boy who once kissed me, then broke my heart in front of the whole school. That humiliation? Still burned into memory. Now, years later, I’m stuck working with him, curating his photo exhibition at the gallery. He’s still the full package, and what's worse? He knows it. But I’m not that girl anymore. My friends and I made a pact to stop chasing the wrong guys. And no matter how much his photographs move me, or how ...

Gabe and I are the dynamic duo of Hunter's Creek and have been ever since we were kids. My bestie is not only sweet and loyal, but he's totally hot in that flannel-wearing lumberjack way of his. Not that I see him like that. Well, not since we kissed that one time back in high school. Thank goodness we have each other, because life in a small town can bore the socks right off you. At least that was true until Hollywood showed up, bringing along hottie Joe Turner. Joe has my head turning so swiftly, I might just earn a degree in neck gymnastics.

Noah Grant was my first. He was the guy who went from childhood friend to teenage love. The guy I spent one heady, intoxicating summer with, only to have my heart snapped in two—not by him, but by me. Fast forward 12 years and just when I think I’m finally over Noah, he’s back. Older, wiser, hotter.

It's one thing to be dumped by the huge Hollywood star you thought you were going to marry. It’s quite another to move back to the small town you're both from. As a booby prize for being shown the door by Dex Ryder, everyone is trying to set me up with their son, their nephew, or their long-lost cousin’s gardener. Either that or they’re throwing me pitying looks that say, “You’re a big loser.”

Cassie is sick of dating. It's been 10 years and it's time to find The One. It's either that or buy a fetching habit and veil and abandon the whole thing. But Cassie believes in love, and she's not ready to give up yet. The pressure is on to find Mr. Right, and Cassie's the first to find him: Parker Hamilton. He's good-looking, smart, cultured - and a doctor. Despite his obvious credentials, Cassie's not taking any chances. She's vetted Parker so thoroughly she could offer some pointers to the CIA. Needless to say, he passes with flying colors.

Swearing off love was easy. Then two men and one dating pact complicated everything. After one too many heartbreaks (and one stolen-shoes incident I’m still not over), I made a pact with my friends: the next guy I date, I marry. Cute in theory. Terrifying in practice. Especially when Marcus Hann strolls into the Cozy Cottage Café looking like every swoony book boyfriend rolled into one. Handsome, charming, and so into me it’s almost suspicious. Obviously, he’s my Last First Date. I mean, fate, right? Except my well-meaning friends already picked someone for me. Josh Bentley, the pun-...

I don’t do commitment. I barely do second dates. But with thirty on the horizon and my closest friends all finding their forever person, I can’t help but wonder… what if I’m wrong? One evening—and maybe one too many glasses of Chardonnay—we make a pact: the next guy we date, we marry. It sounds a little wild, but I’m tired of being the girl who always runs from love. So I take a chance. Three dates. One day. Just to see what’s out there. Then I meet Nash Campbell. A kind-hearted construction worker with an easy smile and the kind of quiet confidence that sneaks up on you. ...

What do you do when you find yourself falling for the wrong guy on a reality TV dating show? Welcome to my world. I'm Phoebe Wilson, ultimate hopeless romantic. I mean, I've devoured Pride and Prejudice so many times that even Jane Austen would give me a high-five. So, when the chance to be on the reality TV show “Dating Mr. Darcy” popped up, it was a total no brainer for me. It’s Mr. Darcy, people! The embodiment of romantic perfection. But there’s a hitch. My heart has taken a detour to the guy standing in the wings. That's right, I'm falling for Mr. Darcy’s best friend, Mr. ...

I’m the last woman standing in the “Last First Date” pact with my friends, and it looks like Cupid’s playing hard to get. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to find The One. I’ve been speed dating like it’s an Olympic sport, but a love match is still out of reach. You see, I've had my share of love and loss, and at 30, playing the lead in an unrequited love saga was definitely not my plan. But that’s exactly where I find myself, wanting more with Ryan Jones, a walking, talking romantic riddle. He’s a perfect blend of Prince Charming and Thor (minus the hammer, obviously...

Love, marriage…and then a family. It’s the same old story. If only it could be ours. Well, here's a reality check for you: life's remixing that old song that goes “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage”. You know the one. Me and my real life Mr. Darcy are happily grooving to that tune—right up until things take a sharp left turn. It seems for us, creating a mini Darcy is like baking a soufflé without a recipe—a very tricky business, and so far our attempts are fizzling out faster than a New Year's resolution. So, I declare war. It’s what ...

When I get dumped during the romantic vows at a wedding, I hit rock bottom. It’s time I got serious about finding a decent man. So, I form a dating pact with two friends who are just as bad at choosing men as me. We agree to vet one another’s dates to weed out the weirdos and jerks. The no more bad dates pact is officially born.

One thing I’ve learned this Valentine’s day is that fake fiancés should remain just that: fake. Pretending to be engaged to James Brody, the hot, single London deputy mayor who graces gossip columns, is just a business deal. Nothing more. I’m his appropriately demure fiancée that makes him look like he’s not the playboy the media thinks he is, and he’s my ticket to getting my pushy mum off my back about not being married and producing her two perfect grandchildren. The problem is, I’ve started to enjoy being with James. Then there’s that kiss we shared. Yeah, that.

I hate Charlie Cavendish. Rich. Over-privileged. Smug. The guy’s far too good-looking for his own good, and he’s always got that smirk teasing at the edges of his mouth, telling me what he thinks of me. And now, my worst nightmare has come true. Charles Cavendish has moved into my building, which means I can’t avoid seeing him everywhere I go. He’s always there, judging me, especially when I come in late at night. Hey, I can’t help it if my “single American girl in London” writing gig means I’ve got to check out every new club in town.

Moving back to my Washington hometown is tough, but having Oliver Langdon as my neighbor is a whole lot tougher. He's the big shot behind Steamy Coffee, the same chain that's making life hard for the café I'm running for my aunt right next door. Sure, Oliver's got that tall, dark, and seriously-stop-being-so-handsome vibe going on. And yeah, I flirted with him before I knew he was my business rival. But chiseled jawlines aren't my kryptonite. He's the competition, plain and simple—even if things between us are heating up more than a cup of his fancy espresso.