Showing results by author "Kenzie Reed" in All Categories

I’ve got plenty of reasons to hate Sebastian Monroe, the sexy lead singer of Heat Lightning: 1.) He doesn’t remember our soul-scorching kiss 10 years ago. 2.) He very rudely refused to play at my hometown’s 300th-anniversary celebration. And 3.) He’s a hotel trashing, arrogant, hot mess. Really hot. Sooo hot....

Working for Chase Lancaster was supposed to catapult my marketing career. Instead, I'm trapped in personal-assistant hell. His hobbies include barking orders, torpedoing my advertising campaigns, and reducing the office staff to tears. On a good day, he acts like I’m invisible. On a bad day, I remind myself arsenic is not an acceptable sweetener for coffee. And prison orange would be murder on my complexion. Imagine my surprise when Chase follows me home to Bitter End, North Carolina, where I'm about to endure my ex-fiancé's wedding.

The contract says I have to get fake-married to a Witlocke. It doesn't say which Witlocke. Apparently, any stuck-up jerk whose last name begins with W and ends with E will do. Oops, was that my out loud voice? Enter my nemesis, sinfully sexy tech mogul Donovan. We’ve been mortal enemies since third grade, but he’s all too willing to meet me at the altar, for reasons he refuses to share with me. Whatever he's planning for me, it can’t be good.

When it comes to sexy oil baron Grant Kingsley, you can leave out the drilling jokes—I’ve heard them all before. The question is, how did I, mayor of a tiny island on the Forgotten Coast of Florida, end up working directly under him? And why does my mind go to the most inappropriate places every time I ask myself that question? And what would he look like without that custom-tailored wool suit and expression of insufferable arrogance?

"Open an artists’ colony on a beautiful coastal island," they said. "It’ll be fun," they said. They haven’t met Sawyer Hendricks, the gorgeous, growly celebrity chef who claims he owns the dream hotel that I just inherited. They haven’t been terrorized by a flock of foul-mouthed feral parrots. They haven’t run smack up against a cranky gang of geriatric islanders who will stop at nothing to ensure that life on Rocky Shoals never changes. They haven't surprised Sawyer in his birthday suit in the foyer of what should be an empty mansion.

Arrogant. Impatient. Distractingly sexy. Mega-successful department store magnate Blake Hudson is everything I’m not looking for. Unfortunately, I may have ruined his life a little bit when I got creative on my first day as a personal shopper. And unless I want to see my new career go up in flames, I’m stuck with the world’s smuggest billionaire until I fix everything I’ve broken.

We’ve all heard about the public image consultant brought in to fix the bad boy’s image. That’s not me. Nope, quite the opposite. I’ve been hired - well, blackmailed is more like it - to be a bad influence on grumpy, gorgeous, humor-deprived billionaire Elliott Bradford. He’s just become the public face of his family’s company, Bradford Amusement Parks. Problem: The board is about to kick him to the curb because they think Elliott wouldn’t recognize fun if it bit him in the as...spiration.

You can take the girl out of the south, but you can't take the south out of the girl. That's why Crash McClanahan is all wrong for me. The sexy, growly biker is just a big walking "nope". Not going to happen. Never in a million years. Sure, his kisses are sweeter than iced tea in July. But I'm monograms and mimosas. He's bar fights and beer. I never wear white after Labor Day. He never leaves the house without his leathers. You get the idea.