Showing results by author "Melanie Harlow" in All Categories

He's back. Not just back in town, but living in the flat right beneath mine. And he looks good enough to eat, which is just one more reason to stay away from him. But I can't resist. The sex is incredible (pretty sure we've shaken the house right off its foundation), but he can't fool me - not this time. A degree in marketing and five years in advertising have taught me that "true love" is a fairy tale used to sell lipstick, diamonds, and perfume. It doesn't exist. He thinks I'm wrong, and he wants to prove it. I think he's crazy, so I dare him to try.

Just friends. That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been. Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family’s ranch. Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were 17. And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis? He makes a girl sweat just looking at him...and I look. A lot. But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father.

Back then, I had it all. After tanking my career - during the World Series, no less - the last thing I want to do is return to my hometown, where every jerk in a ball cap has an opinion about what went wrong with my arm. Then I run into April Sawyer. I can still make her laugh, she can still take me down a notch, and when the chemistry between us explodes, it’s even hotter this time around - and I don’t want it to end. But just when I think I’m ready to let go of the past and get back in the game, life throws me a curveball I never saw coming.

When a psychic tells Natalie Nixon her life is about to be upended by a mysterious stranger, she laughs it off. After all, she has everything she's ever wanted - a successful bakery, the perfect boyfriend, and the keys to her dream house. Who could possibly make her want to throw all that away?

When we were 11, Oliver Ford Pemberton dared me to jump off a barn roof. He said you couldn’t break a leg from a 12-foot jump. He lied. (You can also break a collarbone, which served him right as far as I was concerned.) I wish I could say it was the last dare I ever took from him, the last bet I ever made with him, the last time I ever trusted Oliver Ford Pemberton. But it wasn’t. Because he had the nerve to grow up gorgeous, charming, and sexy. And as we got older, the dares only got dirtier - and the betting stakes higher - until finally, he left me in pieces.

You might think I had it all - a career I loved, a supportive family, the Nixon metabolism but not the Nixon ears, and a salary that supported my lavish taste in designer shoes, fine wine, and lacy lingerie - but I had no one to share it with. Until the day I ran into him - my one-night stand from college with the crooked smile, let's-get-out-of-here eyes, and dirty, dirty mouth. Cute and cocky then, today Levi Brooks is six feet four inches of hot bearded fantasy.

It was like seeing a ghost. When my late husband’s twin brother moves back to our small town, I want to avoid him. Everything about Wes reminds me of the man I lost and the life we’d planned together, and after 18 long months struggling just to get out of bed, I’m finally doing okay. I have a new job, an amazing support group, and a beautiful five-year-old daughter to parent. I don’t want to go backward. But I’m drawn to him, too. He understands my grief and anger and guilt like no one else - and I understand his. Before long, that understanding becomes desire, and that desire becomes uncontrollable.

He's smart, successful, and sexy as hell - I can barely sleep knowing he's right down the hall. And when the chemistry between us explodes one night with fierce, fiery passion, it's hard to deny there's something real there. But he does....

Jack Valentini isn't my type. Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave. Jack might be gorgeous, but he's also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a "rich city girl" like me, and he isn't afraid to say so. But I've got a PR job to do for his family's farm, so he's stuck with me and I'm stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles. His huge, hard muscles.

When I got jilted by my unfaithful fiancé a week before the wedding, my plans involved nothing more than ice cream, a blanket fort, and a bonfire of his possessions. But my friends convince me that bitter tastes better when it’s drowned in Bordeaux, so I embark on the Parisian honeymoon by myself. However, the City of Light isn’t remotely charming or romantic when you’re alone at a table for two, so all I want to do is go home again. Then I meet Lucas Fournier.

In hindsight, I should not have had that fifth mimosa at Breakfast with Santa. Or the sixth, seventh, and eighth. Even if the mic-drop moment that resulted was worth the looks on my former friends’ faces. For the sake of my children and my pride, I pack up and head for my childhood home and the small town where I grew up. Cloverleigh Farms would be the perfect place for a fresh start. Falling for Henry DeSantis wasn’t part of the plan.

I have trouble saying no. To shoes, handbags, the dessert tray…you name it. But when I agreed to a plan last-minute engagement bash for a spoiled Mafia princess, I had no idea she’d demand that my sexy ex cater it. He’ll agree to work for me, but only if I agree to spend a weekend with him. Did I mention my weakness for a**holes with tattoos? I’m totally forked.

Ian Chase broke my heart at 17, and I’ve spent the last 18 years hating him for it. He makes it easy, with his smart mouth and playboy lifestyle - which I unfortunately have to observe since he lives behind me. Every time I see him climbing out of his pool, practically naked and unreasonably sexy, my blood boils. I’ve always loved to loathe him. I never planned to need him.

Nate Pearson is ridiculously handsome and wears the hell out of a suit and tie, but I’ve seen the parade of beautiful women leaving his apartment across the hall - a different one every time - and I want no part of it. When it comes to romance, I’m looking for something real, something that will last: the happily ever after. As a divorce attorney, he loves to tell me there’s no such thing. As a wedding planner, I choose to disagree.

I was expecting a proposal on my birthday, and I got dumped instead. How could I have been so clueless? Grams knew exactly how to distract me. The “cute boy next door” who’s been helping her with yard work clearly needs a little therapy. Who better to call than her newly single therapist granddaughter? She even fakes dementia to get me to visit, and now that I’m here she’s doing everything in her power to throw us together. Not that I’m complaining. Ryan is the sexiest man I’ve ever met.

OK, fine. I’ll confess. While my house was being robbed, I was in the shower indulging my favorite Brad Pitt fantasy (the one with the Troy costume and the handcuffs). But where is the justice in the world when the first cop on the scene is the former bully next door? How dare that arrogant jerk grow up to be six-foot-three inches of solid muscle with gorgeous blue eyes! I can’t stop thinking about him. Or his handcuffs. Or his dirty mouth. Or the way he still likes to boss me around these days, only with a lot less clothing.

He was my first crush, my first kiss, my first everything. So when he shows up out of the blue asking me to have dinner with him "for old time's sake", I say I will. After all, it's been 12 years since he broke my heart, and I'm totally over him, no matter what my sisters say. Except, he still does something to me. He's got those eyes that make me weak, those hands that drive me wild, and a body I can't resist - especially once I see the tattoos. It doesn't take long for our trip down memory lane to go from sweet to sizzling.

Hvis du havde spurgt mig, om jeg kunne finde på at gifte mig med den kæphøje Devlin Buckley, ville svaret være et rungende nej … indtil i dag. Nu står han i min dør med et tilbud: Hvis jeg gifter mig med ham, vil han redde min families forfaldne skiresort og dermed tage hævn over sin tidligere chef. Hvis jeg siger nej, skal mit yndlingssted i hele verden rives ned. Hvis jeg siger ja, lægger jeg min skæbne i hænderne på den mand, som selv prøvede at lukke Snowberry Lodge.

Jeg trængte virkelig til ferie – to ugers pause fra at være countrystjernen Pixie Hart og ro til at være mig selv: gode gamle Kelly Jo Sullivan. Men takket være nogle overivrige paparazzier skal jeg nu babysittes af en bodyguard. Og ja, den tidligere soldat Xander Buckley er lækker, men der må være grænser for, hvor overbeskyttende en mand kan være. Alligevel kom jeg til at kysse ham. Jeg ved ikke engang, hvordan det skete – det ene øjeblik var vi på nakken af hinanden, det næste over hinanden på en måde, der var helt igennem forbudt for børn. Jeg ville uden tøven lægge mit liv i hans hænder.

Måske er det fordi hun var mit livs første kærlighed. Måske fordi jeg aldrig rigtig har glemt hende. Eller måske fordi jeg lige har fået mit livs værste besked... Under alle omstændigheder er der noget, der får mig til at opsøge Maren, som jeg ikke har set, siden jeg knuste hendes hjerte for 12 år siden. Planen er at give hende den undskyldning, hun har fortjent og lade hende komme videre med sit liv. Men da jeg møder hende igen – nu en voksen kvinde, der med succes er gået efter sine drømme, og er smukkere end nogensinde før – bliver jeg endnu engang blæst bagover.