Mistakes were made, okay? The moment I laid eyes on Kyle Kingston I knew he was a mistake. A satisfying, toe-curling, hair-pulling, best-night-of-my-life mistake, but a mistake all the same. I didn’t yet know his name, or who he was, but I knew he was a bad idea. I’m pregnant...and did I mention my baby daddy is both heir to a retail empire and impossible to get ahold of? I do what any girl would. I break into his grandfather’s retirement gala by telling the prissy gatekeeper Kyle’s my fiancé.

My planned trip for two unexpectedly turned into a trip for one. Rather than let my breakup get me down, I packed my bags and decided a week at a luxury resort was just what I needed. But one calamity after the next, and suddenly I was stuck without a hotel room, along with a few hundred other people. It looked like my fancy vacation was about to turn into me sleeping on the hotel lobby floor. Until I overheard a gorgeous man pretending to be someone he wasn’t in order to steal a reservation from a guest who hadn’t shown up yet. 

With Audie Award Winners Sebastian York, Andi Arndt and Elena Wolfe...Four standalone romance novels with heroes who are Good in Bed. 

Remember that time you accidentally sexted your in-laws? Yeah. I just did that. Except worse. Now my million social media followers are reading and sharing the rude, smartass message I meant to send privately to my little sister...and I'm officially public enemy number one. I'm Beck Ryder. Former boy bander. Underwear model. Fashion mogul. And I just buried my entire leg in my mouth - not just my foot - modern internet style, and publicly insulted my sister's neighbor.

My name is Ryan Kingston, and I’m a rule follower. I’ve never been in a fistfight. I always obey the speed limit. I don’t get drunk, and I definitely don’t pick up random women at bars. Except the night I found out that my whole existence has been a lie. I got drunk. And picked up a stranger. Her name was Queenie, and she was everything I’m not: reckless, impulsive, and chaotic. We did shots and traded secrets. And ended up naked at my place. Six weeks later I’m sitting in the first official team meeting of the season, and there she is. 

I have a history of picking the wrong guy. Gay? Player? Momma's boy? Check, check and check. Now I can't stop fantasizing about one of the customers at the coffee shop I work at between classes. It's just a harmless crush, right? It's not like I ever see this guy outside of the coffee shop. It's not like I'm going to see him while attempting to get birth control at the student clinic. While wearing a paper gown. While sitting on an exam table. Because he's the doctor. Shoot. Me.

Sometimes I need an escape from the demands, the puck bunnies, and the notoriety that come with being an NHL team captain. I just want to be a normal guy for a few weeks. So when I leave Chicago for some peace and quiet, the last thing I expect is for a gorgeous woman to literally fall into my lap on a flight to Alaska. Even better, she has absolutely no idea who I am.

Hi, I'm Chloe Scott. The most awkward single girl in the city. But I'm going to get it together. I am. I'm going to learn how to date like a grown up. I'm going to have an orgasm not given to myself. I'm going to fall in love and live happily ever after. Right after I get out of this interrogation room.

Three things Lynsey Jones knows about the hot doctor: he's grouchy, an arrogant jerk, and strangely obsessed with pie. Three things Dr. Josh Richardson knows: He doesn't talk about his past, he doesn't do relationships, and the crazy girl in the hospital cafeteria who ate a fistful of French silk pie...is annoyingly irresistible. After a chance meetup at a bar and a heated cab ride together, things come to a head. Three months later, the weird cafeteria stalker who crept out of Josh's house like a thief in the night winds up as his patient in the ER after her Tinder date from hell.

My childhood was perfect. I've led a charmed life, and I'm not going to blow it now by picking the wrong guy. I've got my sights set on my brother's best friend. He's known my family for years. He's reliable and kind and handsome. Sure, he's been avoiding me since I was six. I'm a bit aggressive for him, maybe. But he's the one...right?

He’s the world’s most alpha Marine and the last man I should be letting jingle my bells this holiday season. But when Clint steps in to rescue me - from a murderous goose, a rogue reindeer, and the ghost of Christmas Right Now causing trouble in my bakery - I can’t help but wonder if we’re meant to be more than friends.

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.

The second the test-the-sexy-scenes offer landed in my lap, I said yes. After all, I've been damn curious about a few things I've read in romance novels. Do buttons truly go flying across the floor when you rip off a guy's shirt? Is staircase nookie hella hot, or does it leave you with a big old bruise mark on your back? And don’t even get me started on all that panty shredding, and whether it even works. Time to find out as I embark on Project Sexy Scenes Research, at the request of my hotshot book editor bestie. All I need is a willing scene partner.

Fling is a stand-alone novella. I have a crush on my boss' best friend. At least it's not my brother's best friend. Or my best friend's brother. Or...never mind. It's all pretty cliché. And worse? My boss' best friend is his business partner. Which sort of makes him my boss, too. Okay - it's not sort of. It's definite. Gabe Laurent is off-limits. Totally off-limits. Which is fine. I make do with my imagination. He'll never know. Ever. Unless my work bestie passes me an '80s-style teen movie sex quiz during a meeting, and I fill it out. And it ends up in Gabe's hands....

There’s a fine line between lust and hate. I don’t care that Drew Merritt spent the last year transforming himself from grungy slob to sexy playboy. With messy, dirty blond hair and gorgeous eyes, his looks aren’t the problem. His mouth is. And the stupid things that come out of it. But after an emergency strands us together, and he does his damnedest to take care of me.... Let’s just say there’s one thing we don’t clash on. And it doesn’t involve talking.