Remember that time you accidentally sexted your in-laws?
Yeah. I just did that. Except worse. Now my million social media followers are reading and sharing the rude, smartass message I meant to send privately to my little sister...and I’m officially public enemy number one.
I’m Beck Ryder. Former boy bander. Underwear model. Fashion mogul. And I just buried my entire leg in my mouth—not just my foot—modern internet style, and publicly insulted my sister’s neighbor.
Also known as the woman of my dreams, who loves geeky TV shows, baseball, and giraffes, who’s just as turned on by food as I am, and who has a huge secret that I didn’t see coming.
Now it's time to grovel and apologize publicly on social media and hope that those same followers who helped start the raging shitstorm will help calm the waters.
Because Sarah doesn’t want the spotlight. For very good reasons that I can’t tell you right now and trying to convince her to be my fake girlfriend to fix this mess and make me look like less of a jackass is worse than taking a kick to the nuts by Jackie Chan.
And I thought modeling underwear made me feel naked.
Trying to start a relationship in the era of the twitterazzi isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
America’s Geekheart is a rockin’ fun romantic comedy featuring a billionaire fashion mogul who got his start modeling underwear, the geeky girl next door with a secret the size of California, and more superstitions and secrets than you can shake a baseball bat at. It stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers.
Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend.
Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet.
Target: Grady Rock. Master Baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends.
Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me before my life fell apart.
And the man who just scared off that perfect fake boyfriend.
By pretending to be my real boyfriend.
I can roll with this though. What's the harm in Flirting with the Frenemy if it helps me get the job done?
Complete my mission and move on.
Or so I thought.
Until Wyatt kisses me again and I start feeling things I shouldn't.
The thing about weddings...nothing ever goes as planned.
Flirting with the Frenemy is a rollicking fun romantic comedy featuring a single dad military man, an irritatingly attractive blast from his past, pirates, cursing parrots, and a wedding gone wild. It stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers.
The man could charm the panties off of a nun…
Nick Murphy. Hockey god. My best friend’s big brother. My friend-with-mindblowing-benefits. The best thing to happen to my nether regions since my subscription to the toy of the month club. The man I’ve been secretly in love with for years.
And total ass.
I am so done with him.
Except there’s one small problem.
Now that I’ve cut him off, his hockey game is in the toilet. He’s convinced I’m his good luck charm, and he wants me back. But only for his game.
I’ll be strong. I will. I’ll resist.
Asses don’t change their stripes.
Or do they?
This plan would be so easy if the man wasn't Charming as Puck…
Charming as Puck is a romping fun romance between a hockey player and his sister's best friend, complete with farm animals, over the top birthday presents, and Berger Twin sightings. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a pucking awesome happily ever after.
The world’s sexiest firefighter is about to get a second chance with the virgin next door…
He’s bossy, arrogant, and so ridiculously hot he should come with a warning label and a pair of flame retardant coveralls.
He’s also the boy who broke my heart when we were in high school.
I want to move in next door to Ryan O’Dell the way I want to be the virgin gamer geek suddenly in charge of running my sister’s sex toy factory. Too bad both are written in my stars.
Yeah, I’m the world’s oldest virgin code-writing nerd.
And he’s the world’s hottest firefighter.
And even though he intimidates the heck out of me, I can’t seem to control my libido when he’s around.
Where is my dignity? My self-respect? My panties?
Seriously…. Have you seen them? Anyone?
Maybe they’re hiding in his bedroom. With my heart.
Yeah, I know. I’m hosed.
Hosed is a steamy, fun romantic comedy between a firefighter and the virgin nerd next door, complete with a pet raccoon, scandalous gossip, and dildo football. (No, really.) This romance has no cheating or cliffhangers, and ends with a banging hot happily ever after.
For anyone who’s ever been on the receiving end of an unsolicited dick pic…
He has the muscles of Adonis, an ego bigger than the sun, and a very clear desire to get back in my pants. Which would be fantastic if he weren’t a SEAL and I wasn’t a criminal.
Although, I prefer the term avenger.
I’m a hacktivist, cleaning up the cesspool of cyberspace one scam artist and troll at a time, and I sometimes bend a few rules to get justice done.
He’s a military man with abs of glory, sworn to uphold the letter of the law no matter its shortcomings. And if he’d known who—or what—I was, I doubt he would’ve banged me at my best friend’s wedding reception.
Or come back for more.
Which is why he’s now the only thing standing between me and one very pissed off internet troll who’s figured out where I live.
I’m pretty sure he’ll get me out of this alive—and quite satisfied, thank you very much—but I’m also pretty sure this mission will end with me in handcuffs.
And not the good kind of handcuffs.
The Hero and the Hacktivist is a romping fun romance between a SEAL and a twisted hacker by day, drummer by night, complete with epic klutziness, terrible leg warmers, and an even worse phone virus gone wrong. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a fabulously fun happily ever after.
A Rockstar Bridenaps a Preschool Teacher...
Kidnapping the bride seemed like a good idea at the time.
Her fiancé stole my fortune, so I stole his woman.
Tit for tat. Or tat for tit. However you want to look at it.
The one thing I didn’t expect?
Willow Honeycutt, preschool teacher, boy band super fan, is completely crazy.
And somehow she’s turned the tables on me.
Now, she’s holding me hostage, and she won’t let me go until we hit every item on her sparkly new, completely insane bucket list.
And that last item?
That last item might cost me more than any fortune.
It very well might cost me my heart.
Rockaway Bride is a romping fun romance between a down-on-his-luck rock star and a boy band-loving preschool teacher, complete with a road trip, handcuffs, and fun with nuns. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a rockin' awesome happily ever after.
There are two kinds of women in the world – those I can bang, and those I can’t.
My teammate’s sister?
She’s a can’t.
I moved in with her to protect her from a nasty ex, not to be the next guy in line.
She’s the brains.
I’m the brawn.
She’s the fruit.
I’m the sausage.
She talks too much.
I don’t talk at all, if I don’t have to.
Should be easy to resist her.
But every minute I spend with Felicity is another minute she gets under my skin. She makes me feel like something more than a dumb puckhead with a big Zamboni pony. And it’s getting harder to remember why I need to keep my hands to myself.
Beauty and the Beefcake is a vegan-friendly standalone romantic comedy featuring a hockey player whose vocabulary is the only thing smaller than a hockey puck, a book-smart but aimless ventriloquist with too many voices in her head, a dilapidated old house that may or may not be haunted, and no cheating or cliffhangers.
I’ve just bought the woman of my nightmares.
Technically, I bought the company she works for. Point is, she cost me my two best friends ten years ago. It’s payback time, and I’m going to make her life hell.
When I’m not banging her silly and myself stupid.
I need to get my head back in business, because getting off is great, but He was a man who had sex, and lots of it, and in the worst locations, with the woman of his nightmares isn’t the inscription I want on my tombstone.
Even if it’s true.
There are three things I hate:
Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking loudly like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett.
Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It’s been ten years since he took my virginity—I’d make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a bratbest joke, which also pisses me off—and now he’s not only a billionaire, he’s also my new boss.
Turns out our hate is mutual. And this kind of hate is horrifically twisted, filthy, and banging hot.
I just might have to hate him forever.
Mister McHottie is 45,000 gloriously hilarious, hot, sexy words that your mother warned you about, complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks, and no cheating or cliffhangers.
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