Mostrando resultados por autor "R.S. Grey" en Todas las categorías

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. If anything, he seems drawn to my indifference.

Every small-town girl has known a Sawyer Garnett. He’s the dimpled dreamboat we used to fantasize about in algebra class, the hometown heartbreaker with no shortage of outraged exes. But unlike most golden boys, this one didn’t peak in high school. Oh, no, no. Like the fine wine at the vineyard he’s the literal heir to, Sawyer’s only gotten better with age. Nobody is more annoyed that karma has yet to find Sawyer than my best friend, his old flame. Just hearing his name makes her curse the day he was born.

Everyone in Cedar Creek, Texas, knows Jack McNight is an arrogant devil. Physically, I get it: he’s tan and fit, with coal-black hair that’s clearly been scorched by hellfire. Oh, and his personality? It burns just as hot. When I show up on the doorstep of Blue Stone Ranch, I’m run-down and rockin’ my last pair of underwear. I’m hoping for a savior, but instead, I find him. My opinion of Jack is marred by a dismal first impression, but his opinion of me is tainted even before I arrive. He’s heard I’m a spoiled princess there to take advantage of his goodwill.

When her mother's incessant matchmaking hits an all-time high, Georgie Archibald does what any sensible woman would do: she flees the country. Seeking refuge in the picturesque seaside village of Vernazza, Italy, Georgie's only plan is to lie low, gorge herself on gelato, and let the wine and waves wash her troubles away...that is until she wakes up in a bed that belongs to the most romantic-looking man she's ever seen.

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.

Young and naïve—those are his exact words. Professor Barclay views me as a nuisance, a disruption of his otherwise obedient class and perfectly regimented life. His bad impression of me stems from a simple misunderstanding. When that impression sours from bad to worse, he decides to make an example out of me in front of the entire class. Every other female student in that auditorium looks on, longing to trade places with me, wishing they were the object of his attention. It’s humiliating. I want nothing to do with him or the tension growing between us, but he feels inescapable.

With Olympic tryouts on the horizon, the last thing 19-year-old Kinsley Bryant needs to add to her plate is Liam Wilder. He's a professional soccer player, America's favorite bad-boy, and has all the qualities of a skilled panty-dropper. A face that makes girls weep - check. Abs that can shred Parmesan cheese (the expensive kind) - check. Enough confidence to shift the earth's gravitational pull - double check. Not to mention Liam is strictly off limits. Forbidden. Her coaches have made that perfectly clear.

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, we should hardly cross paths at all. Unfortunately, at Rosethorn, I find that all roads eventually lead to Nicholas Hunt.

I’m not supposed to be on vacation with my best friend’s older brother. I’ve wanted him for so long, and now we’re unexpectedly alone in a tropical paradise. Naturally, I packed a lot of bikinis, but I should have brought armor if I want to have any hope of surviving my week away with Noah Martin…or should I say, Dr. Martin.

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. 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.

Ian is...just my best friend. We're extremely close, stuck so deep inside a Jim-and-Pam-style friendzone everyone at work assumes we're a couple - that is until one day, word spreads through the teacher's lounge that he's single. Fair game. Suddenly, it's open season on Ian. He should be reveling in all the newfound attention, but to our mutual surprise, the only attention he seems to want is mine. He's turning our formerly innocent nightly chats into X-rated phone calls. Our playful banter sports a new, dangerous edge.

I have one simple rule: Don’t date professional baseball players. There are no exceptions, no workarounds. With a brother in the league, I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the downright horrifying. Those guys might seem tantalizing when they’re in uniform down on the field, hitting grand slams in front of a crowd of adoring fans, but I know better. The huge egos? The insane travel schedules? The veritable buffet of female companions? No ma’am. Professional athletes are best handled at a distance, preferably far enough away that their chiseled jawlines blur into oblivion. Enter Grant Navarro.

Dr. Russell has a bad reputation around our hospital. I try to avoid him and his temper at all costs. It’s just as easy to admire his sexy, grip-it-while-he’s-ravishing-you hair and chiseled jaw from a healthy distance. Unfortunately, my plan crumbles when my trusty ol’ boss decides to swap his white coat for a Hawaiian shirt. His retirement leaves me with two terrible options: Switch specialties and spend months retraining or take an open position as Dr. Russell’s surgical assistant.

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!

If someone had told me a year ago that I was about to fall in love, go on an epic road trip, ride a Triceratops, sing on a bar, and lose my virginity, I would have assumed they were on drugs. Well, that is, until I met Beckham. Beck was mostly to blame for my recklessness.

A full-length standalone romantic comedy from USA TODAY best-selling author R.S. Grey. Beau Fortier starred in most of my cringe-worthy teenage fantasies. I met him when I was a junior in high school, a time that revolved exclusively around bad hair, failed forays into flirting, and scientific inquiries into which brand of toilet paper worked best for stuffing bras. That is, until Beau moved into the small guest house just beyond my bedroom window. A 24-year-old law student at Tulane, Beau was as mysterious to me as second base (both in baseball and in the bedroom).

Twenty-three year old model Charley Whitlock built a quiet life for herself after disaster struck four years ago. She hides beneath her beautiful mask, never revealing her true self to the world... until she comes face-to-face with her new photographer - sexy, possessive Jude Anderson. It's clear from the first time she meets him that she's playing by his rules. He says jump, she asks how high. He tells her to unzip her cream Dior gown; she knows she has to comply.

I thought I'd left Blackwater, Texas, behind for good. I didn't belong in the small town, but my dad wouldn't listen. He dragged me back home in his beat-up truck and dropped a bomb along the way: Chase Matthews was moving in with us. He was the golden boy of my high school, my former best friend, and the last person I wanted sleeping across the hall. His presence was too great a reminder of the ghosts I was trying to forget.

Bad-boy hockey player Hayden Harrington always lands on his feet. Or skates, in this case. After a scandalous fling with the coach’s daughter comes to light, this good-looking hotshot forward is swiftly traded to the Atlanta Thunder—an up-and-coming new hockey team. It’s not all bad, though. This could be his big chance to play center on the top line. So yeah, maybe it’s fortuitous that the pesky team marketing intern, Addison Knight, let his secret out. Still, though she’s hot as sin, he’s happy he’ll never have to see her again. Or will he?

Best-selling author Maddy Fitch, while researching material for a new novel, returns to her hometown of Harbour Falls to investigate an unsolved disappearance that has haunted the tiny Maine coastal town for the past four years. Although the case has gone cold, Maddy soon discovers that the prime suspect, Adam Ward, is hotter than ever. The sexy, secretive Mr. Ward now makes his home on an isolated island near the coast, so Maddy takes up residence nearby to find out why this enigmatic man lives in such a secluded place.