Showing results by author "Julia Kent" in All Categories

I was ready to propose and I got upstaged by a snake. Not a real one. My bandmate. A case of mistaken identity almost derailed my proposal to Amy, but in the end, love prevailed. And my hand hurts from the punch, but it was worth it. She’s worth it. But I really need an ice pack now. Though a kiss from Amy and that yes are even better.

Colleen Luview's love life is cursed. No—really. The small-town nurse is notorious in her touristy mountain community. After every third date she's ever had, the guy ends up in her emergency room.

I never thought my perp walk would lead to true love. Then again, I never thought I’d be arrested on RICO charges and hauled away in zip ties on camera for the world to see, minutes after closing the most amazing deal of my career. And all of it in front of my biggest rival, billionaire wunderkind Ian McCrory.

I get paid to follow a womanizing troglodyte who thinks rules are for other people and that my pants are the next pair he’s getting into. Bet your first professional job didn’t involve babysitting an extremely hot, muscle-bound Scottish highlander with an ego the size of a kilt and libido bigger than his…well…chicken. Keeping Scottish football (that’s "soccer" to us Americans) player Hamish McCormick away from inappropriate scandals while he does product endorsement campaigns is my mission. No problem. Until Hamish decides I’m his next scandal. And maybe more...

No wedding catastrophe can faze Katie Gallagher because when you plan for the worst, you deliver the best. The best wedding ever. Her company, Wedding Protectors, Inc., promises happily ever afters. Guaranteed. Whatever it takes. But always-prepared Katie? She's steering clear of her own HEA. Love is her job. Not her destiny. So when she falls for silver fox and self-made millionaire Patrick Cooper, she breaks a rule so taboo, it doesn't technically exist: Never fall for the bride's father.

Ana DaSilva is looking for a palate cleanser. A one night stand. A reboot. Instead, she got fireworks, sparks, chemistry, and the perfect guy. No one wants to meet Mr. Right when he should just be Mr. Rebound, but Mr. Right is so, so right.

We're ready. We've studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it's time. And by "we", I mean me. Declan's just ready for the "have lots of sex" part. More than ready. But there's just one problem: My husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition. McCormick men don't just have babies. They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.

When I was young and impulsive (okay, it was only five years ago, alright?) I let my boyfriend take, let's just say...compromising pictures of me. (Shut up. It made sense at the time.) Surprise! The sleazy back-stabbing jerk posted them on a website and, well, you can guess what happened. I’m a meme. Now I get tagged on social media whenever anyone shares them. You try getting a thousand notifications a day, all of them pictures of your tatas. It’s time for revenge. But how do you get embarrassingly intimate pictures of your jerkface ex who double-crossed you five years ago?

A random meeting between a rural Ohio chick and a rich Boston musician kickstarted all sorts of random acts of love and adoration—and got even more complicated when his bandmate entered the picture.

I'm not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland. Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends. So what is Chris "Fletch" Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he's pattern matching a picture to find a real person he's never met before? Oh. Oh, no. The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.

Stalker exes. Momzillas. Drunk uncles. Hurricanes. Jealous siblings. Paparazzi. You name it, Kari Whitevelt has seen it all. That's why brides and grooms hire her. Because she makes it all go away. Wedding Protectors, Inc., is here to make sure that special day stays special. Whatever it takes. No matter what. When her newest client turns out to be her long-lost high school sweetheart, rising tech star billionaire Caleb Mikelmas, suddenly Kari's not sure whether she's protecting the wedding couple—or her own heart.

Gerald Wright works for billionaires. He never imagined he'd become one.The former Navy Seal is a chauffeur by day, artist by night, so when hotter-than-ever ex-fiancée Suzanne Dayton interrupts his nude model sculpting class to serve him with inheritance paperwork from a man he's never heard of, he assumes it's a joke. Turns out the joke's on him. There's just one catch. A big one. And it might be Suzanne - in more ways than he ever dreamed.

I'm thrilled to be the maid of honor in my friend's wedding, but the best man, Andrew McCormick, is a chauvinistic pig with a god complex. And I can't stop kissing him in closets.

How do you top the perfect wedding to the perfect man in the best hometown with the greatest best friends ever? With an even better reception. And how do you top the best reception ever? With the picture-perfect honeymoon in Fiji. Except when our past comes back to haunt us, things don’t go quite as planned.

Kell Luview has decided to make Rachel Hart his wife after two perfect years together, and the man has plans. Big plans.

The last ever-loving thing I ever thought I’d become is a hypocrite. A big, fat one. Joe doesn’t even want me to meet his parents. Trevor’s fine with it, but only if they keep thinking I’m his girlfriend. And only his girlfriend. He doesn’t want that pesky little thing called truth to get in the way. Both of them are my boyfriends. Both.

Mom owns more holiday decorations than 12 area malls combined. Dad prides himself on hand-chopping the best live tree, while my older sister perfected peppermint cookies to the point of unparalleled bliss, and my younger sister has memorized every Christmas carol with her fingers for a piano bash that goes on and on.

I guzzled another flute of Champagne and froze, the liquid in my throat, waiting to be swallowed. Tyler was here. We’d met a few times before, in passing. He was the substitute bass player for the band; I was the lead guitar player’s girlfriend’s best friend. In that weird sort of social circle thing where Venn diagrams get laid over different groups, Tyler and I were bound to be in the crossover once in a while.

It’s Andrew and Amanda’s turn...in duplicate. We’re having twins. Twins. Which means my shooters are stronger than my brother’s. I win. Yeah, yeah, everyone can say it’s not a competition, but it is. And we all know it. Two babies at once means double the fun, and double the misery for my poor wife, Amanda.

He says we never had a proper honeymoon. So, instead, he’s giving me...a prepper honeymoon? Who knew billionaire preppers were a thing? I guess I’m about to find out.