R S Grey

I'm desperate and destitute when Lockwood Construction rolls into my small town with an offer too good to pass up: high wages to any able-bodied man willing to join their crew. Say no more. I throw on baggy clothes, tuck my long hair under a baseball hat, and apply for a job. Unfortunately, my half-baked idea of disguising myself as a guy is flawed from the beginning. As Shakira says, these hips don't lie. Still, I like to think I might have pulled the whole thing off save for one thing: I know my boss. Last month, we met at a bar, and after a fiery first encounter, it seems we're destined to be sworn enemies. Ethan Stone is ruthless and arrogant, a man I never would have crossed had I known how much he likes to toy with his prey. He should just fire me and be done with it. Instead, he decides to make me his personal slave. Oh right, I think they're calling it personal "assistant" these days. It's torture, all of it-his bad attitude, his ruggedly chiseled face, his desire to grind me into dust. Every one of our friction-filled battles burns hotter than the last. A girl can only hold out for so long. Soon, I'm bound to go up in flames. My objective? Survive the heat long enough to send home a paycheck. My real objective? Stop having X-rated fantasies about my coldhearted boss.

Coldhearted Boss

NatalieDr. Easton is part man, part myth. He's a formidable surgeon. Highly respected in his field.He also happens to be an ex-collegiate quarterback with a classically handsome face.Are you catching on yet?He's horrible.Beautiful.A walking Ralph Lauren ad.He's also so off limits he should come with a warning label: This way lies heartache.Not only is he an attending at the hospital where I'm training, he's also my brother's best friend. If you've lost count, that's two reasons why I plan on putting this ridiculous crush behind me. Besides, it's definitely not mutual. Dr. Easton has never once paid me special attention. No tempting smirks. Not even one subtle innuendo. To him, I'm just another resident-all but invisible.ConnorFor the last five years, I've mentored Natalie in the OR, stayed in line, and kept my hands to myself, but it's been agonizing.Natalie is trouble in scrubs. A walking temptation I've been forced to ignore. For so long, I've wanted her in silence. By the time fate finally gets around to throwing me a bone, my patience has run out.Natalie's brother is leaving town, and he wants me to watch over her while he's gone.He has no idea how I feel about her.Neither does she.But she will.Haven't you heard good things come to those who wait, Natalie? Well...I've done my waiting.

Doctor Dearest

CANDACE: KAT & YASMINE! DO NOT DALLY! Come straight home after work. Kat, don't take the long route from the subway station just so you can pass by Cute Hot Dog Guy. This is important! I've had THE BEST DAY. You won't believe it. There I was in my preschool classroom, washing a bit of poo out of some soggy trousers, when this absolute babe came to collect his nephew from my class. Truthfully, I thought I'd blacked out for a moment when I first saw him. He was a proper hunk with glorious brown hair, quite tall, and he had these arms. Are muscly arms supposed to turn me on? I'm panting just thinking about them.Anyway, he told me he's a professional foosball player. At least, I think that's what he said. The tots can get quite loud near pick-up time. YASMINE: Foosball? What are you on about? Have you gone mad?KAT: Oh sod off. So what if I like to have a good look at Hot Dog Guy's arse on my trek home after a hard day's work? It's called self-care.CANDACE: Kat, you're hopeless. Yasmine, yes-foosball! I suppose it's a big thing over here in the States? We must investigate and learn everything we can. By the way, he's called Logan.Logan + Candace. I think that sounds quite nice! I can hear the wedding bells now. Dum dum da-dum.YASMINE Oh good grief. I suppose we can do some snooping when I get home. I'll grab wine on my way.KAT I'll grab hot dogs.THE TROUBLE WITH QUARTERBACKS is a hilarious romance about unlikely love found between a British preschool teacher and the professional quarterback who sweeps her off her feet.

The Trouble With Quarterbacks

I'm good at hiding my feelings.Having to pretend I'm not in love with my best friend?Pfft. That's child's play.Here's how I do it: I avert my eyes when he walks out of his room, shirtless in all his toned glory. I squash the butterflies that fill my stomach every time he slowly unfurls a dimpled smile. And, most importantly, I keep an arsenal of "personal massagers" in my bedside drawer. Wink.Not to brag, but Aiden Smith isn't hard to resist if you've been doing it for as long as I have. In fact, we might have continued as best friends forever if not for the fact that I needed him to play the part of my fake boyfriend.Date me like you mean it, I told him. Nudge nudge. C'mon, just go along with a little lie, help a girl out, and then we can all return to life as we know it.Except he veered from the plan.He crossed the line.Flirting with me when no one else was around? Pinning me down and kissing me like that? Okay, how exactly is taking off my bra part of the ruse, Aiden?!I'd ask him about it if I could, but well...things got ugly and we're not best friends anymore.In fact, we're the exact opposite. Now, I have to play nice even though I want to crush his heart in the palm of my hand. Pretending not to love Aiden was the easy part.Pretending not to hate him?Well...I might need a little more practice.

Date Me Like You Mean It

Dear Past Me, Future You here, coming to offer a little advice: hang on for dear life. This summer is going to be a wild one. I know what you're thinking: Life's going so well! I don't have a care in the world! Wrong. That culinary career you love so much? It's about to go up in smoke, and your boyfriend? Yeah...he's a goner too. If only love were as simple as, say, actually adding yourself to the lease agreement so you don't suddenly find yourself loveless, jobless, and homeless! Did your five-year plan include moving back in with your family and sharing a bed with your Nonna? No? Well, hate to break it to you...it's exactly as traumatizing as it sounds. Have you had enough? Too bad. Buckle up-it gets worse. Your new boss is a professional baseball player, and he's hot, like really hot, but you'll pretend not to notice because he's a single dad and it feels wrong to ogle him in front of his innocent child. Unfortunately, he thinks you're sexy as hell too. Unrequited love is one thing; mutual off-limits pining destined to explode in the worst of ways? What could go wrong...wrong...wrong... (That's me fading out because you have to take it from here, kid. Good luck! Don't screw this up for me.) Sincerely, Your future (wiser) self

Three Strikes and You're Mine

We don't get a lot of NBA superstars coming through little ol' Pine Hill, Texas. That's why everyone is all in a tizzy over the fact that the USA men's Olympic basketball team will be training here of all places before this year's Summer Games. With little else to talk about, rumors about the players have been spreading like wildfire, and there's one man in the middle of it all holding a match. Ben Castillo. NBA champion. Olympic gold medalist. Widely hailed 'King of the Court'. The morning he walks into my dingy diner, I have enough sense to keep my head down and go right on wiping tables, pouring coffee, and serving up short stacks. A man who looks like that-superstar or not-has only ever meant trouble, and more trouble is the last thing I need, what with taking care of Nan and scraping by on tips from truckers. If anything, he seems drawn to my indifference. His steely gaze pierces me behind the counter. My knees nearly buckle under the weight of his attention. But while Mr. Pretty Boy is probably used to snagging city girls with a smile, this gal is country strong. I won't be some clichéd convenience for him on his way through town. So look over your choices carefully, Benny-boy. We serve up sides of hash browns here, not heartbreak.

King of the Court

Their Last Resort

Fighting Words

Caribbean Crush

Mr. Big Shot 

Nicholas Hunt is the man I hate.For good reason.His opinion of me is tainted by prejudice even before my arrival at his grandmother's estate, and my first impression of him is just as abysmal.His arrogance and icy demeanor make it clear that he's the type of man who's best handled at a distance.Fortunately, space shouldn't be an issue inside this Gilded Age mansion and its lush gardens. If I stick with the servants and he keeps to his sailboat and vintage Porsche, we should hardly cross paths at all. Unfortunately, at Rosethorn, I find that all roads eventually lead to Nicholas Hunt.Sparks fly as we spar at the dinner table. Fighting words are flung in the shadows of the palatial halls. We hang suspended in our hatred of one another, painfully oblivious to the heat and tension that build with every moment we're left alone. We're liable to kill one another, I think...right up until my eyes land on his lips and a new feeling grips hold of me: lust. What's worse? He knows it.They say you should keep your enemies close, but when Nicholas tightens his grip on my waist and draws me near, I'm not sure if it's out of loathing or love. One thing's for sure-I intend to find out.

Love the One You Hate

Mr Big Shot

It's simple: Noah Peterson and I are enemies. Our fellow teachers know it, our friends know it-even the Starbucks drive-through lady knows it since every Monday she scrawls the name A. Hole for me on Noah's cappuccino when I pick up the weekly group order. The shrill whine of the school bell announces the start of each day's no-holds-barred grudge match. Since neither of us is looking to get fired or thrown in prison, we war with our words and our wits. We prefer banter that bites. All day, I'm on edge, looking around every corner, expecting him to do his worst. Just when I think I can't take the sight of his (regretfully) handsome face for one more minute, the school day is done. Summer usually offers the sweetest relief-a two-month Noah detox-but not this year. "We need two volunteers to chaperone a group of eighth graders in Rome" becomes a game of chicken neither one of us is willing to lose. We both want that bonus check. "Back out," I tell him. "Scared?" he taunts. No one thinks it's a good idea for us to go to Rome together, least of all me. Taking this battle abroad will only lead to mayhem and misery. DING. Ladies and gentlemen of flight UA447 with service to Rome, fasten your seatbelts. We're bound to have a bumpy ride.

R S Grey

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