Showing results by publisher "Dreamscape Media, LLC" in Romantic Comedy

Fans can’t get enough of Levi Hunt, the Special Forces veteran who put his NHL career on hold to serve his country and fight the bad guys. So when his new Chicago Rebels bosses tell him to cooperate with the press on a profile, he’s ready to do his duty - until he finds out who he has to work with: flame-haired, freckle-splashed, impossibly perky Jordan Cooke…the woman he should not have kissed the night she buried her husband, Levi’s best friend in the service.

Wren Roland has never been kissed, but he wants that movie-perfect ending more than anything. Feeling nostalgic on the eve of his birthday, he sends emails to all the boys he (ahem) loved before he came out. Morning brings the inevitable Oh God What Did I Do?, but he brushes that panic aside. Why stress about it? None of his could-have-beens are actually going to read the emails, much less respond. Right? Enter Derick Haverford, Wren's #1 pre-coming-out-crush and his drive-in theater's new social-media intern.

If love is the source of all the magic in the universe, and the town of Ever After, Missouri, is the epicenter of enchantment, then the locals are in dire need of a reboot. At least according to resident fairy godmothers Petunia, Jonquil, and Bluebonnet. Their solution? Blow a bit of fairy dust in the direction of those in need of romance.... What could possibly go wrong?

Jasper Quigley is tired of being everyone's favorite sidekick. He wants to become the hero of his own life, but that's not going to happen if he agrees to help out Milo Lionetti, his former best friend turned king of the jocks. High school was miserable enough, thanks, and Jasper has no interest in dredging up painful memories of his old secret crush.

At 35, Gina Bourque is still playing the field. If he’s single, in his early 20s with dark hair and brooding eyes, there’s a damn good chance you’ll find him in her little black book. Jeffrey Ryan never imagined that at nearly 40 he’d find himself widowed and a single dad. But here he is - stumbling through this thing called life with two impressionable daughters watching his every move.

I never meant to say a word, not one single word. But I did. And now, because of my blog, everyone knows that Ice Knights hockey star Ian Petrov's best friend and fellow player is actually his half-brother - hello, hockey Hall of Famer dad who couldn't keep his jeans zipped. That wouldn't be such a big deal if Ian knew. He didn't, and boy howdy is he pissed. And who is he most mad at? Oh sure, he's upset with his dad and former best friend/brother from another mother, but most of his ire is with me. It's definitely a case of hating the messenger.

With all my best friends off the market, it’s time that I, Tori Sussex, join them. So where better to find my future husband than the internet? It’s great. I get to get all the awkward stuff out of the way and already know if I’m going to like the guy before we meet in person. It’s a shame nothing's ever that simple. My relationship with Colton Lane, my best friend’s brother, is the very definition of complicated - dirty little no-strings-attached hookups we’ve somehow managed to keep secret from all our friends for the past six months.

Danica Waterhouse is a fully modern witch - daughter, granddaughter, cousin, and co-owner of the Fix-It Witches, a magical tech repair shop. After a messy breakup that included way too much family feedback, Danica made a pact with her cousin: They'll keep their hearts protected and have fun, without involving any of the overly opinionated Waterhouse matriarchs. Danica is more than a little exhausted navigating a long-standing family feud where Gram thinks the only good mundane is a dead one and Danica's mother weaves floral crowns for anyone who crosses her path.

It started as a joke.... A throwaway promise between friends. A dare for a single kiss at our reunion and nothing more. But that kiss...that kiss was no joking matter. It was hot and wet. A hands-everywhere, breathless kind of insanity that left us both teetering on the brink. She’s got rules about guys like me...rules I respect the hell out of when they apply to any other pro athlete. But as they apply to me? Those rules are about to be broken.

Jasmine Taveras is the reason Sarge Purcell grabbed his six-string and bailed the hell out of New Jersey four years ago. She's the fuel for every song he's ever written - each one laced with bitter, hard-edged, hungry lust. Now, with his hugely successful band on temporary hiatus, Sarge is determined to prove to Jasmine that he's turned into every inch the man she's always needed....

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.

Charlotte feels shell-shocked as she takes in the scene before her. To the left is her (ex?) fiancé’s retreating figure as he hotfoots it back to civilization; in front, the crumbling Greek island farmhouse she thought was their shared dream; and just below, a goat munching merrily on her sunhat….

Home is the place to heal, right? That's what Dillon Michaels is hoping, at least, as she leaves her disappointing career and nonstarter love life behind to help her grieving and aging grandfather on his small Oregon farm. The only problem? Her eccentric mother beat her there and has taken over Dillon's old room. After a few nights sleeping on a sagging sofa, Dillon is ready to give up, until she receives an unlikely gift - her grandfather's run-down vintage camp trailer, which she quickly resolves to restore with the help of Jordan Atwood, the handsome owner of the hardware store.

It seems like a solid plan: Get hitched, Vegas-style. Lose each other’s numbers, permanently. Avoid pitfalls of real marriage forever. Until I sober up, and my wife is already gone. It’s what we agreed to. But I don’t like it. A year later, I find her. I have another solid plan to undo our mistake. Only now, I’m not so sure the cocktail napkin with our prenup can protect me from the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do…fall in love.

When my business partner asked me to do him a favor, I had no idea he was sending me on the blind date his mother had arranged for him. I walked into the bar, saw the woman drinking her third martini, and knew I was in for an eventful night. After an unexpected second date, she didn't know my real name or who I really was. By that time, the lie was too far gone, and I wanted her too much to admit the truth.

Oscar is a grouch. That’s a well-established fact among his tight-knit friend group, and they love him anyway. Jack is an ass. Jack, who’s always ready with a sly insult, who can’t have a conversation without arguing, and who Oscar may or may not have hooked up with on a strict no-commitment, one-time-only basis. Even if it was extremely hot. Together, they’re a bickering, combative mess. When Oscar is fired (answering phones is not for the anxiety-ridden), he somehow ends up working for Jack.

You know that instinct to run when something bad is coming? Yeah. I apparently missed out on that one. Because when Damon Rose came, instead of running, I got pregnant.

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.

Reid Durand isn't here to make friends. Coming from a legacy of hockey greatness, he has games to win and things to prove. With his focus during his first season as a Chicago Rebel purely on his drive to succeed, every vice is off the table - no booze, no sugar, and definitely no women. Kennedy Clark is the master of the side hustle. She'll walk your dog, brew your espresso, and pick up your dry-cleaning, all while rocking it in Warrior pose. Standing still is impossible because the moment she starts to slow down, it'll all come rushing back: the memories, the pain, the heartbreak.

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.