Showing results by author "Nicole Snow" in All Categories

The dirty little secret Dad left in the basement was supposed to be our salvation. Guess nobody told him you don't take cash from killers without savage consequences. Now the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club owns my sister and me. We're only alive because the rugged hulk with the piercing eyes who won't stop ordering me around says so. He saved us, but he's also an enigma I don't understand.

My biological clock just exploded. Eighteen months. That's how long I have to make a baby happen before it becomes one more broken dream. Fate has a sick sense of humor, though. Its name is Hayden Shaw. Yes, the Hayden Shaw. Billionaire developer, scandalously gorgeous, his hard-headed ego only eclipsed by his enormous...reputation. He needs a bride to fool the world. I need a baby. It's simple business. Strictly professional.

He never bothered with hello. The shrieking hot stranger had me dizzy the instant he said we're engaged. Then he chased off the bully on our heels and dragged me back to his place for the night. Pure insanity, right? Wrong. You don't let pride do the talking when you're homeless, on the run, and hauling around your sick father in a truck so old it must've been on Noah's Ark. You definitely don't complain when Ridge Barnet takes charge. (In)famous heartthrob. Stinking rich. Fed up owner of one angry rooster. Eyes set to permanent storm.

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.

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.

I just ran into the girl who got away. Holding a hate letter addressed to me. And now we're stranded in an elevator. Last time we kissed, it was final. I wasn't supposed to see her again. Not in this city. On this elevator. The moment it craps out, stranding us overnight with animal cravings and fencing lies. Last time we kissed, how could we know our next might truly, madly, beautifully restore us?

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.

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.

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.

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.

Trust me, I'm not falling for a human porcupine. I don't do older men with baggage a mile long. Billionaires? Nope, I'm Miss Independence, thank you very much. And when a man with the emotional intelligence of a cucumber decides to boss me around? Hoo boy. Shepherd Foster and I are utterly incompatible. He still can't get over the day we met when I questioned Mr. High and Mighty's judgment. He's also holding the key—and the moolah—to my animal rescue dreams. I'm only putting up with this torture for the cute otters, I swear.

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?

It was one little dare with razor-sharp teeth—work for him. Yes, he's a fire-breathing grump and gazillionaire bachelor. Yes, I just gave him an ego check he'll never forget. Yes, he's still offering me the job dreams are made of. But Cole Lancaster is the stuff of bossy nightmares. Too handsome for real life. Big Coffee kingpin. Guarded papa bear. His precious daughter is the only reason he ever stops grumping for five seconds. I'm sure I can deal with his scowls and cutting glances for one huge payday. Only, sometimes your best assumptions are dead wrong.

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.

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.

There's nothing tiny about Brock Winthrope. He even roars like a lion when he sees me. I scream back. And after narrowly avoiding a murder scene, we've got trouble. He says he'll fix our reservation blunder since he's the manager (he's not). He thinks I'll smack his resort with the rotten-egg review from hell (I might). I've never seen a man so grumpy groveling his heart out to wow me (it's working). Oh, but it gets better. Brock whisks me away on an amazing “date”, and things get heated.

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.

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.

Hell always screams into my life on two wheels, so why the hell does he look like heaven? Rabid's nothing like the other vicious thugs in the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club. When I see the dark ink dancing on his stunning body, I almost believe he's here to save me instead of just seduce me. But I won't be fooled again. All the club brings is ruin, and they're back to give me more.

Cora: Never kiss an outlaw, they said. Easy advice, until the day my father's dirty secrets made me property of the Deadly Pistols Motorcycle Club. Easy, until I came face-to-face with the beautiful bastard who makes me burn with every glance - Firefly.