Real estate mogul Sullivan Bradford’s family is pushing hard for him to get married. When his mom sets up an appointment for him with a matchmaker, he seizes the opportunity. A business arrangement with a suitable candidate is just the thing to get his parents off his back. The last thing Kinsley Taylor was looking for was a husband, but she can’t afford to turn down the deal Sullivan is offering. Not when becoming his bride will give her the money she needs to save her brother. Love and babies weren’t part of the agreement...but some contracts were meant to be broken.

Jared "Mac" MacKenzie is used to making tough decisions as the President of the Silver Saints MC. When a member of a rival MC puts one of his brothers in a coma, he'll do whatever it takes to get answers—including kidnapping Bridget Pierce, their president's daughter.

Prentice Wright was one of the best quarterbacks in the league. He was known for making all the right moves on the field. It was how he led the New York Nighthawks to victory so often. Falling for his teammate's sister wasn't a smart play. Especially when Naomi Scott was more than a decade younger than him. But Prentice was also known for being relentless in the pursuit of his goals . . . and he'd never wanted anything more than to make Naomi his.

When my brother’s best friend asks me to fake marry him to secure a business deal he desperately needs, I laugh in his face. Me, help Carter Harrington? That’s split-your-pants, rip-roaring hilarious. I don’t even like him.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

Stephen Hastings is a control freak. All I saw were his clear blue eyes, tight butt, and ripped torso. I gladly handed him my V-card that night, 10 years ago. I was so stupid. I swore I'd never be that stupid again...Emmy Barton works for a dry cleaner? She says she hates me, but when we fight, it's all heat and lust. I won't leave her this way. She will let me help her and her son. She will stay...It's a thin line between love and hate, and this line is on fire.

Emmett Lasker is impossible to work for. He might be model handsome and stupidly wealthy, but he also has it out for me. He’s given me more last-minute and weekend requests than anyone else, ruining any plans I make. I should quit. And I will. Just as soon as I hit my two-year anniversary and earn out my signing bonus. But after a particularly awful day at work, a breakup (via text!), and my computer crashing, I’ve had enough! So at 11:59 Friday night, I barge into Emmett’s office to tell him what I really think of him. Only, that’s not what happens. AT ALL.

I hate Dante Moretti. He is cold, calculating, and vicious. It’s no secret that he wiped out his former fiancée and her entire family on the eve of their wedding. He’s the kind of evil that makes even devils cry. But that’s not why I hate him.

I left the Navy, scored a billion in tech, got married, and had a baby. I did everything by the book. Happily ever after, right? Fast-forward four years, and I’m alone, raising my daughter, caring for my mother-in-law, and trying to keep my stuff together. How did this happen? I was clearly drunk the night I offered a gorgeous girl in a bar $500 a day to be my live-in nanny. Or maybe it was my dick talking. So what if I’ve been alone since forever? I’m focused on launching my new business, not bedding the sexy siren who sleeps down the hall.

The first time I saw him, he entranced me and offered to help me forget my broken engagement. The second time was on a blind date with no last names and undeniable passion. The third time, I was eight months pregnant with his baby that he knew nothing about. This time, he's not letting me walk away so easily.

CEO Lainie Madden has her hands full. In charge of a growing tech company, her work and her employees are her life. She’s sworn off love, because the sad reality is that she stinks at choosing men who aren’t self-absorbed cheaters. But when she starts receiving disturbing death threats and her company’s website gets hit with relentless cyber-attacks, she’s in over her head.

The quintessential question asked to every couple. And the answer is usually some bubbly, lovey dovey tale of being struck in the bum by Cupid’s arrow. My meet cute (well, not so meet cute) is slightly different. I was trolling a wealthy neighborhood in Beverly Hills, searching for someone to take me as their bride, you know, to make my arch nemesis jealous who consequently just fired me.

Looks. I've got in spades. Money. I've got it coming out of my ears. Power. I'm CEO of a large investment bank in Texas. Do I need to say more? Too bad there's something missing. My MC brothers keep me grounded, but I'm swimming in a sea of loneliness. One cold, rainy night, I pull over to help a stranded motorist and get the shock of my life. My soulmate has been living right under my nose for months, yet we've never crossed paths.

Five hockey players, a cabin in the woods...and little old me, Winnie Berlin. Sounds like the start of a fantasy, right? But it's not. It's my reality. It all started when I got lost in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. A wicked thunderstorm sent my car mud sliding into a ditch, and for a girl whose survival skills involve finding the nearest Starbucks, I was in deep trouble. Forced to abandon my car in search of help, I stumbled upon a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

I'm not interested in starting something deep and meaningful, but what I am interested in is the way your body reacts to mine when we're in the same room. You probably assume the concentration on my face is work-related, when in reality, I'm figuring out which I want more: to nail you against the wall, or to bend you over my desk.