Showing titles in Romantic Comedy

Keane Morgan wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts, and I was pissed as hell about it. I didn’t want to drive from Seattle to L.A. with the guy any more than he wanted to drive with me, but I had no frickin’ choice in the matter—at least, not if I wanted to use his brother Dax’s coveted parking spot at UCLA. Okay, so it turned out Keane was objectively gorgeous, and, fine, pretty funny, too. But did he have to be so damned in love with himself? I mean, jeez, the cocky way he flashed those dimples was just so orchestrated.

When romance novelist Kate Smith suddenly gets writer's block as she's beginning the final installment of her international bestselling erotic Bed 'n Breakfast series, she'll do pretty much anything to get her groove back. Like sneak into a Tire Depot waiting room because her words flow there just like complimentary coffee-smooth, sweet, and scorchingly hot.

“I’m hiring you to do more than guard her, Zander,” my new boss explained. “You’re gonna be her rock. Her human Valium. Her trusted friend. And she’s gonna be your mission from God.” “So I’m her babysitter?” “Her babysitter, her bodyguard, her f--king service doggie. Whatever she needs or wants, that’s what you’ll be. Anything except her booty call.” The vein in my new boss’s neck bulged. “Touch her and I’ll do more than fire your ass, Zander. I’ll rip off your balls.” My buddies laughed when I told them about my ridiculous new job.

It was lyrics at first sight when I saw Violet Rhodes across that crowded party. She was lights and darks, swirled together. Music in motion. And all of it while looking like a hitwoman at an Elvis convention. I had nothing to offer the intriguing girl but a one-night stand. I figured I’d revel in my last night of anonymity before my first tour and shoot her a quick “we’ll always have LA!” good-bye the next morning. But nothing went according to plan.

Dr. Ben Song likes his life orderly, predictable, and blissfully private. By day, he’s a forensic anthropologist running a controversial research project. By night, he’s the anonymous author of a bestselling cozy mystery series. What he absolutely doesn’t need? One viral moment turning him into the internet’s new favorite grumpy heartthrob.

Book three in the No.1 New York Times bestselling Into Darkness series, following the dark rom-com sensations Lights Out and Caught Up. The game is on for these enemies-to-lovers with laugh-out-loud banter and scorching-hot brat play. I hate that woman. Tyler Neumann has spent years looking for...

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.

Lennox Kennedy is beautiful, loud, and the love of my life. She's also my ex-girlfriend. The first time I saw her after ten years apart, I slammed into the plexiglass minutes before our game was set to begin. The second time I threw up. The third time's a charm apparently because as my fiancée and I walked into an appointment to meet the woman hired to plan our nuptials—there she was again. Obviously, I did what any smart man would do—I called off the wedding. I don't have a plan per se, other than winning back the only girl I've ever loved.

Renley Gossage has one shot to prove she’s more than Cape Meril’s favorite cautionary tale: restore her favorite candy shop before the town writes her off like they did her father. No help, no shortcuts, and definitely no rich men wielding engagement rings and making things messy. Theo Williams never planned on ending up in Cape Meril. A drunken game of truth or dare turned into a botched online engagement, and now he’s across the ocean, escaping his father’s control with nothing but designer shoes, misplaced confidence, and a rental next door to Renley.

The good news is my nemesis has made it abundantly clear the feeling is mutual. He did call me pretty, though, in the midst of a heated screaming match. Which would have been flattering, if I didn’t loathe him so much. But whatever. I don’t care how handsome he might be, or how charming the rest of the world probably finds him, guys who look like aged-out boy banders aren’t my type. Add to that, he’s got a knack for being in precisely the wrong place at the wrong time, and I was thrilled to march away from our angry skirmish and never see the bastard with the piercing blue eyes, ever again.

At one point during the party, Alessandra said, “There’s nothing like a girl’s first love.” I knew she was talking about the first smash hit by my band, 22 Goats. Alessandra said it was the first song she’d heard by us and it “hit her like a ton of bricks”. Ironic, seeing as how I was having the same reaction from being in her presence.

The difference is mine will never be revealed, whereas I can easily get yours, assuming the price offered by your enemy is right and the scales of justice appeal to my personal standards of ethics. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. The thing that’s not so easy for a shy guy like me? Finding Ms. Right and locking her down.

*** PRE-ORDER GAME ON, BOOK 3 IN THE MULTI-MILLION COPY BESTSELLING INTO DARKNESS SERIES *** Meet BookTok's latest obsession . . . dark, funny and super spicy, can you handle the ride? I want someone with a soul as black as night. Someone who would burn the world down for me and not lose a...

With an exclusive new bonus chapter... from Adam's POV Based on the available information and the data hitherto collected, my hypothesis is that the further I stay away from love, the better off I will be. 'Contemporary romance's unicorn: the elusive marriage of deeply brainy and delightfully...

Sydnie De Grado’s a bone fide girlboss who isn’t looking to settle down; she’s been there, done that, twice. When her dad unexpectedly announces he’s selling their not-for-profit tech firm she’s torn between family loyalty and a suspicion that something isn’t right… especially as the deal hinges on a chatbot that’s not even ready for market yet. But then Syd finds an unlikely ally in Nathaniel Caldwell, the quiet CEO at the company trying to buy them out.

Bestselling romance author Livia Gaines (Maya Hawke) hasn't written a single usable sentence since her long-term boyfriend blindsided her with a breakup—an ironic twist for someone paid to make happily-ever-afters look easy. With her deadline looming and her publisher threatening to cancel her contract, Livia's agent offers a solution: housesit a secluded Hamptons estate and finish her novel in peaceful isolation.

Once I saw Marnie Long, a sassy, sultry, charismatic older woman in a bar, I couldn’t peel my eyes off her. I wanted her. At least, for one night. I’m way too busy with my career these days for anything more. As it turned out, after recently getting burned, Marnie was on the same page as me—all she wanted was one night of fun. I was happy to be of service. What I didn’t expect during our night together, however, was how deeply we connected. Also, how much I was dying to see her again the next morning.

I swear I didn’t mean to flirt with the world-famous Brayden Clarke - especially not right in the middle of an interview for a job. It was a slip - or, perhaps, a gut reaction to his smoldering eyes and deep, sexy voice. To my total disbelief, they give me the assignment. My task is simple: advise Brayden and his band on how to communicate with their fans.

Willow Carruthers - British Oscar winner, style icon and mother of three - is facing a crisis: she’s broke, discovery of her partner’s infidelity has left her a single mother and, if the banks have their way, she’s about to be homeless.

I sent an anonymous email to The Ghost—a hacker who destroys scumbags for fun—detailing my darkest fantasy. He replied. With a phone number. Now he's texting me, saying he can make it real. That he's watching me. That he knows exactly what I need. I should run. Instead, I'm saying yes. The question driving me insane: Who is he? The question that's going to ruin me: Do I really want to find out?