Showing results by author "Nicole Snow" in All Categories

Eleanor Lark is an upbeat illustrator plagued by headaches and unruly strawberry blonde hair. After a grueling cross-country flight, she blacks out cold. The brooding stranger who sat next to her grumping his way through the flight catches Elle as she falls. Neither expects the sweet chaos that happens next. August Marshall is stonehearted, insanely rich, and a master of corporate cleanups with major baggage of his own. The last man alive who needs a media frenzy after his airport heroics steal headlines. But August has a plan—ask Elle to marry him so their trouble disappears.

Big dreams come with bigger catches. Mine came wrapped in a merciless suit—Ethan Blackthorn. Billionaire tyrant. My bestie's older brother. Bane of my childhood and jackwagon of the century. Now he's my flipping fiancé. All thanks to a brutal six-month marriage clause in his grandfather's will.

My “interview” with bosshole supreme was anything but normal. He picked the worst day ever to chase me off my favorite park bench. I retaliated with a spray of cinnamon latte all over his Italian shoes. Then - for some unholy reason - Magnus Heron offered me a job.

I guessed wrong. A little reckless fun with a stranger never hurts. A drunken one-night stand doesn't leave you pregnant. A savage twist of fate won't make your baby daddy your new boss. Bad luck can't last forever—unless you're me. Should we count the ways I'm cooked with Patton Rory? He rocks the grumpy gene, dialed up to 11. He's so handsome the mirror winks back and his bank account has its own zip code. He's also totally oblivious—thank God. I'm not sure what he'll be if he figures out the little boy who trashed his fancy building and ruined his favorite tie is his son.

It was one freaking kiss with a stranger. I wasn't looking for a hero the day Brent Eden charged into my life. He saw a damsel in distress facing humiliation. We played pretend. Swore I was his. Baited sweet chaos. Blew apart everything. My dating disaster? Gone. Our kiss? Electric. Divine. Toe-curling. His mistake? Oh, boy. Dropping the ultimate F-bomb: fiancée. Especially when my gossipy cousin tells the whole family.

I wasn't supposed to end up in an outlaw biker's bed. I wasn't supposed to love it. I definitely wasn't supposed to crave his fiery kisses, beg for his touch, or ache to know the man behind the evil-looking ink and scarred smirk. I was the good girl. He was the monster. Then everything changed. I became a prisoner. I prayed for Skin to save me. He did - and he kept me for himself.

Is there any coming back after you blow your own wedding to pieces? I braced for the fallout when I left my emotionally unavailable groom. I expected the tears, the family wrath, the drama galore. I found the perfect little cabin to hide out and heal. But I never planned for him. Archer Rory makes my bridal breakdown look tame. A gruff single dad with a genius son. A billionaire control freak who only speaks common sense. Also, the man who's now my landlord, my boss, and my protector. Whew.

He was just a hookup. I wasn't supposed to see him again. He wasn't supposed to be my boss. Or Dad's new business partner. We weren't supposed to keep doing this, night after sheet-clenching, heart-pounding, lip-biting night.

Summer: I didn't have an outlaw's baby. Honest. I didn't run, didn't hide our son, didn't suffer alone. There's not a bastard with a gun to my head, sending me running to the bad boy I left behind. Making me lie to everyone. Yeah, I'm full of it. Here's the truth - I'm frozen because I'm finally face-to-face with the wild, gorgeous man with the icy stare who lit me on fire three summers ago. Joker rocked me to my core, left me with a kid, and it's just a matter of time until he discovers everything.

He's going to kill me when he finds out. I should've left Roman behind after our unforgettable fling two summers ago. I wasn't supposed to end up having his kid, always looking over my shoulder for the last man in the world meant to be a father. But danger has a funny way of betraying a woman's best-kept secrets and reigniting old flames that should've died on a hot summer night.

He pushes buttons I didn't even know I had. Gabe freaking Barin. Fire to my ice. Walking mountain. Growly, alpha, and achingly kind. Last man on earth I want in my life. But I've got three heaping problems: 1. My baby niece is missing. 2. Some psycho just slashed up my car. 3. My boss made Gabe my personal protector. I'm a big girl in a tiny package. Sharp claws. Perfectly capable. So I'll ignore the jaw-dropping banter Goliath drops. I'll ignore how his Louisiana drawl melts damn near everything. I'll ignore how he's five times my size.

I never knew what hit me. Rex stormed into my little world with two adorable twin boys and no apologies. Bearish. Short-fused. Consuming. Huge. Torturously gorgeous. Leave-your-heart-in-pieces wrong. Did I mention HUGE? He's instant trouble the second he checks into our lodge and my overprotective grandpa hires him. Then I catch him staring with that knowing ache in his eyes. I forget what trouble even means. He also needs a nanny. Sold.

His proposal came in a little black envelope with 13 unlucky words: You still owe me that favor, doll, and I'm cashing in. Marry me. In a normal life, I'd never get hitched to Calvin Randolph. Not with his heart-stopping blue eyes, infamous player reputation, and an ego bigger than the part of his anatomy he loves boasting about the most. Been there, done that. All except the last part, which he's left to my shameful imagination for seven years apart. Of course, the fake fiancée contract I just signed is anything but normal.

Signing on as a company driver for Brandt Ideas felt like a dream. Big-girl salary. Stellar benefits. Glorious people - minus one. Nicholas Brandt was put on Earth to drive me insane. Of course, he's my boss man. He spent the first month mistaking me for a dude. Then he “apologized” with the grace of a drunken moose. A perfect grump with a brutal reputation. A heart-thief sculpted like a fallen angel. A master at making me question all of my life decisions. Why is it always the terrible ones who make a girl tingle?

Bossy. Heart of stone. Snarly mess next door. Send help before I'm prick-matized.... My next big mistake has a name. Warren Ford. Best kept secret in this weird little town. An alpha's alpha. Spartan abs. Too blunt for everybody's good. Moody, broody, mysterious, and totally up in my business.

Lena Joly has a fierce soul for healing every pet who limps into her struggling clinic. Taming human jerkwads is nothing new—until the day Brady Pruitt storms in with an adorable lost puppy. There’s nothing cute about him. His wicked reputation overshadows devastating good looks and a jaw-dropping fortune. She’s relieved to send Seattle’s infamous bad boy billionaire packing and get back to fighting for her clinic. But Brady already decided the spitfire who ranks him lower than a banana peel can convince his family he’s finally respectable.

Oliver Major was the only lunk brave enough to tame me. Strict. Rich. Deliciously handsome. The right kind of scary. And the scary kind of right. He was my rugged oasis in high-stakes corporate hell. The day he disappeared without a trace sheared my soul. Years later, I'm on a date with destiny. A risky mission seeking answers to my train wreck of a life. Then a little tip from Heart's Edge blows open the shocking truth. What Galentron Inc. took from me isn't gone.

You know that awkward moment when your lava-hot boss says “marry me”? Not for love. Not for real. Not without a mammoth payoff. Of course, this fortune comes with a ginormous snag - Ward Brandt. Call me bananas. I must be short of a full bushel rejecting Chicago's finest billionaire. Who knew he was my boss when he crashed my worst date ever? Oh, but he found out. He swore I wasn't fit for Brandt Ideas, chewed me up, and spat me back out. I vowed I'd prove him wrong - and sabotage a metric ton of his coffee.

I can still pinpoint the exact second when my life became two truths and a lie. You don't forget delivering a mountain of fresh-baked sweets to a man like Dexter Rory. I never wanted to see his scowling, bossy, brutally godlike face again, no matter how well he tipped. If you told me I'd wind up wearing his ring, I would've died laughing. But here I am, trying to cling to my sanity while I confront the undeniable.

Strange men do funny things when you score the last cinnamon roll. Sometimes he rages about the high crime of jacking his precious pastry. Sometimes he offers you ludicrous bribes to buy it back. And sometimes—after shattering your faith in humanity—you find out he's your new boss. I'm not laughing.