Showing results by author "Emma Hart" in All Categories

"Don't let the bastards get you down." For 26 years, I lived by my daddy's motto. Which is why "Mechanic Wanted" is all it takes for me to apply for the job at the garage we once owned. And I meet the biggest bastard of them all: Dexter Ryne. Hotter than hell in July and a firm believer that my place is on reception, taking phone calls, and looking pretty. Not getting dirty under the hood of a car. Determined to prove each other wrong, we make a deal.

When bestselling romance author Ellie Aarons finds herself with chronic writer’s block, she’s pretty sure all she needs is a change of scenery. A beautiful lakeside cottage with her cat seems like a good idea. But she’s wrong. She needs more than a change of scenery—she needs a muse.

As the owner of Pick-A-D*ck, New Orleans' premier hook-up website, my job is simple. Connect two people for a no-strings, no-expectations hook-up. The plus for my clients is that I'm the one who gets to sift through the d*ck pics - except this time, they're required. My problem? My brother, co-owner of Pick-A-D*ck's sister dating site, doesn't believe it's possible to hook up with someone three times and not fall in love. I disagree. I know it's possible. And my disagreement is exactly how I end up reconnected with my high school nemesis, Elliott Sloane.

What I wanted for my birthday: Books. What I got for my birthday: my brother’s best friend playing matchmaker. Let it be known that I am 100 percent against being set up with somebody. And I’m 1,000 percent sure that Josh Carter's not the man to find me a boyfriend. I mean, if I’m so great, why isn’t he the one dating me? (For the record, I don’t know the answer. That’s just what the guy on the internet asked.) I’ll humor him. If I go on his little dates, he’ll teach my bookish, introverted self how not to be totally, completely, utterly, unforgivably awkward.

Imagine this. You're ready to leave after a one-night stand, and you're figuring out how to - shock horror - leave your number and ask him to be your fake boyfriend for your sister's wedding this weekend. When he wakes up. Well, that happened to me. And over coffee and omelets, I found myself a date. Which was how I ended up arriving at the wedding with a guy I knew nothing about.

Enjoy 11 sweet regency romances in one touching box set! Follow the stories of Lords and Ladies as they delve their way into the heart of society and lose their hearts along the way!' This Box Set Includes: The Viscount in Hiding The Reluctant Viscount Threatened by a Lord The Widow and the Lord Alex & Harriet An Everlasting Love A Healing Love Lady of His Dreams The Heart of a Lady The Memories of Duke A Heart’s Return

Setting up a dating website with the guy I've been in love with since I was five wasn't my smartest idea. Especially since he's my best friend's brother - thankfully, she's okay with the fact I'm pulling a Sandy, and I'm hopelessly devoted to him. Which is why it's time to get over him. So I do something crazy and ask Dominic Austin to find me a date. He does - if I find him one, too. Since we own Stupid Cupid, it should be easy, right? And it is. My date is perfect. His date is perfect. Everything is perfect. Until he kisses me.

Literally colliding with the hottest guy in the world and agreeing to be his date to his sister’s wedding? Done…for some reason. Finding out he’s actually an aristocrat and will one day inherit an ancient Scottish dukedom and castle? Yep, that’s a surprise. Sharing a bed with him at said castle because his family thinks I’m his girlfriend? Okay, I’m sure I’ll survive. Even if he does make my heart pitter-patter and my lady bits—uh, never mind.

Conner Burke never expected Sofie Callahan to come back. Where she's been for the last two and half years is a mystery, and so is the reason she left in the first place. Now, though, she's back in their hometown of Shelton Bay, South Carolina, at the same time Conner's band Dirty B. is home on a tour break.

As the daughter of Hollywood's sweetheart, Leah Veronica can't even buy a coffee without finding her face on a magazine stand, so it's no wonder she's launching her first fashion line in secret. With it debuting at New York Fashion Week in just under a month, extra time in the spotlight is the last thing she needs.

Don’t sleep with your best friend. Take it from me. I did it. And it was awful - I-wish-the-tequila-made-me-forget kind of bad. The problem is, Luke has forgotten. He swears that he can’t remember a thing about that night beyond the trays of tequila shots being set on the tables. But I can't forget. I can’t forget how good his hands felt until I fell over and hit my hip on the dresser, and I sure as hell can’t forget the entire two minutes.

My name is Adelaide Astley, and if there was anything remotely exciting about me to tell you, I would. Sure, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, and my mother bucked family tradition to marry “below” her and open a hotel, but I’m nothing but an aspiring author with a Tudor era obsession. Oh, and I’m spending the summer tutoring the daughter of the current Duke of Worcester. Alexander Winthrop-Bentley is so not my type, but hours of chess games and arguments over Tudor dynasties mean we’re thrown together more often than we should be.

Bad idea number 241: sending a dirty text to your number neighbor. In my defense, my friends did it, too, and their neighbors took it as the joke it was. Mine didn't. He responded with a dirty text of his own. Next thing I know, I have a standing texting date every night at 10:30. Until I have to miss it because the stray kitten who adopted me one week ago is sick. The only person I know who can help me at this time of night is my British next-door neighbor and local vet, Isaac Cooper.

My name is Lady Gabriella Hastings, and there are three things you need to know about me. One, my idiot brother will inherit the estate I’ve adored my entire life. Two, my father wants me to marry an idiot who has an estate like this. Three, my aunt’s goats keep escaping and terrorizing the public. Oh, and I have a huge crush on the gardener. But I have absolutely no time to sort out my own love life - because I’m too busy moonlighting as an online agony aunt to fix everyone else’s problems.

Let it be known that I, Saylor Green, am wholeheartedly against blind dating. I think it’s superficial, unnecessary, and designed wholly to force people into relationships they aren’t ready for. So when Dylan Parker takes the seat across from me, I’m ready to dismiss him at one glance. The problem? He’s hot and funny and sweet and the exact kind of guy I read about in the romance novels I sell like hotcakes in my bookstore.

It’s not you. It’s me. No, seriously. It is me. Not only does my name literally mean “unfortunate”, but that’s the story of my life. Everything I touch turns to crap. An apartment fire - that I swear I was not responsible for - means I’m living back at home with my sex-mad parents. Yay, me! Which is why I need my new job as personal assistant to Cameron Reid to get back on my feet. Three months in this job and I can move back out and, hopefully, remember to turn off my flat iron once in a while.

I, Elle Evans, am on the run. Not from the fuzz - although that would be more exciting. No, I’m on the run from the four-year-old private tape that, thanks to my vengeful ex, has probably already ruined my vlogging career. There’s nothing like the entire world knowing what you look like mid-O. Creek Keys, Florida, is a million miles away from NYC, and it’s the perfect place for me to hide for the rest of summer until I can figure out what I’m going to do.

After four years living the single life, it’s decided that I, London Stuart, am back on the market. I’m not even mad when my cousins and best friends put my name down for the speed-dating sessions. In fact, I’m actually a little excited about it. But then one of my dates turns out to be my six-year-old son’s irresistibly sexy soccer coach - his irresistibly sexy British soccer coach.

When your flatmate is the hottest new party planner in the country, three things are bound to happen: 1. You’ll have to take a work call for her while you’re in your underwear. 2. You’ll have to fill in for her after an emergency...and pretend to be her. 3. You will royally mess it up...until a hot future duke steps in to save your bum. Yes, yes, that all sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Until you consider the party being planned is for the Dowager Duchess of Devon’s 80th birthday, and the current duchess is the ultimate type A personality.

Let me make this clear right here, right now: I, Halley Dawson, do not care that Preston Wright is kissing other women. Not a lick. Not at all. Nuh-uh-freakin'-uh. I do care that he's doing it six feet away from me behind a gaudy velvet curtain - making him my competition in this year's kissing contest. Why do I care, you ask? Because I've had an unfortunate crush on the insufferable idiot since I was 16 years old, but I also know it's never going to happen.