Showing results by author "Kate O'Keeffe" in All Categories

Love, marriage…and then a family. It’s the same old story. If only it could be ours. Well, here's a reality check for you: life's remixing that old song that goes “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage”. You know the one. Me and my real life Mr. Darcy are happily grooving to that tune—right up until things take a sharp left turn. It seems for us, creating a mini Darcy is like baking a soufflé without a recipe—a very tricky business, and so far our attempts are fizzling out faster than a New Year's resolution. So, I declare war. It’s what ...

What do you do when you find yourself falling for the wrong guy on a reality TV dating show? Welcome to my world. I'm Phoebe Wilson, ultimate hopeless romantic. I mean, I've devoured Pride and Prejudice so many times that even Jane Austen would give me a high-five. So, when the chance to be on the reality TV show “Dating Mr. Darcy” popped up, it was a total no brainer for me. It’s Mr. Darcy, people! The embodiment of romantic perfection. But there’s a hitch. My heart has taken a detour to the guy standing in the wings. That's right, I'm falling for Mr. Darcy’s best friend, Mr. ...

When it comes to men, I am totally committed to not being committed. But here’s the thing. I’m pushing 30. Hard. I know it’s not exactly old, but it’s not young, either. As cliché as it is, my biological clock is ticking louder than a clap of thunder. But more than that, I’m lonely. I want what my friends have. I want love. So, one evening, my besties and I agree to a pact to marry the next guy we date. Chardonnay may have been involved. Lunacy definitely was. I mean, what’s a commitment phobe doing agreeing to a pact like that? It’s a question I’ve asked myself a bunch of ...

Making a pact with my friends to marry the next guy I date is a huge mistake. You see I’ve given up on love. I got burned and came second best, and now I’m over it. Dating, men, looking for The One, all of it. I’m done. And even if I hadn’t given up on love, I have an impressive list that shows how terrible I am at choosing the right guy. The emotionally unavailable ones. The ones who don’t choose me back. The ones who steal my shoes (true story). But then Marcus Hann walks into the Cozy Cottage Café and I forget all the reasons. Because oh, my. Handsome, funny, charming, and ...

I’m the last woman standing in the “Last First Date” pact with my friends, and it looks like Cupid’s playing hard to get. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to find The One. I’ve been speed dating like it’s an Olympic sport, but a love match is still out of reach. You see, I've had my share of love and loss, and at 30, playing the lead in an unrequited love saga was definitely not my plan. But that’s exactly where I find myself, wanting more with Ryan Jones, a walking, talking romantic riddle. He’s a perfect blend of Prince Charming and Thor (minus the hammer, obviously...

Taking the bull by the horns is child's play compared to ruling Malveaux. Yet here I am, a Texas girl turned princess, swapping tacos for a tiara. Then I meet Europe's most eligible bachelor, the irritatingly handsome Prince Alexander, and accidentally deck him instead of curtsying. Oops. I'd feel bad if he wasn't such a self-satisfied jerk. Now, I'm racing against a royal clock that ticks with the urgency of a preening peacock, trying not to let down my newfound country or my own wild heart. Alexander?

Am I facing a second chance at love with my high school crush, or setting myself up for another round of heartbreak? Alex Walsh is my worst nightmare. He's the full package of handsome and suave, the heartthrob of my high school days. The memory of our kiss hasn't faded, despite the humiliation that followed. Now I'm stuck working with him, showcasing his photographs—and inadvertently, his charm—at my boss's gallery. But I've turned over a new leaf. No more kissing toads. My friends and I made a pact to find Mr. Right, not Mr. Right Back to High School. Even if his photographs and his ...

Cast in a reality dating show, Emma Brady isn’t looking for love. She knows it could be the big break her new activewear line desperately needs. But is putting up with a Mr. Darcy wannabe worth it? Sebastian Huntington-Ross is straight out of an Austen novel, and his looks are perfect for the show’s spotlight. But it’s hard to focus on his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and wickedly sexy accent when all Emma can see is his pride, arrogance, and smug demeanor.

I’m the queen of dating disasters - I’ve had more rotten dates than you can shake a long-stemmed rose at. After years of one disappointment after another, I’m beginning to feel like I’ll never say “I do.” So after being dumped one too many times, I do something stupid: I make a pact with my best friend Asher. If neither of us is married by 35, we tie the knot. I’ve got to meet Mr. Right by then, don’t I? But when I take a job redecorating Asher’s bachelor pad, I realize he’s a lot different from the guy I thought he was.

Imagine being trapped in a fake romance with the one person you vowed to avoid at all costs.Here I am, doing just that with none other than Nick Zachary, New Zealand’s “wild boy of rugby” himself. Player on field and off, Nick’s the last person I’d date in a million years. I may be in this thing to repair his tarnished rep, but while I’m being photographed on his arm I can raise the profile of my fledgling fashion designs. It’s a win-win—if I can stomach the public PDAs with a guy with more abs than brain matter. As if playing make-believe with Nick isn't challenging enough,...

It's one thing to be dumped by the huge Hollywood star you thought you were going to marry. It’s quite another to move back to the small town you're both from. As a booby prize for being shown the door by Dex Ryder, everyone is trying to set me up with their son, their nephew, or their long-lost cousin’s gardener. Either that or they’re throwing me pitying looks that say, “You’re a big loser.”

Noah Grant was my first. He was the guy who went from childhood friend to teenage love. The guy I spent one heady, intoxicating summer with, only to have my heart snapped in two—not by him, but by me. Fast forward 12 years and just when I think I’m finally over Noah, he’s back. Older, wiser, hotter.

I hate Charlie Cavendish. Rich. Over-privileged. Smug. The guy’s far too good-looking for his own good, and he’s always got that smirk teasing at the edges of his mouth, telling me what he thinks of me. And now, my worst nightmare has come true. Charles Cavendish has moved into my building, which means I can’t avoid seeing him everywhere I go. He’s always there, judging me, especially when I come in late at night. Hey, I can’t help it if my “single American girl in London” writing gig means I’ve got to check out every new club in town.

Cassie is sick of dating. It's been 10 years and it's time to find The One. It's either that or buy a fetching habit and veil and abandon the whole thing. But Cassie believes in love, and she's not ready to give up yet. The pressure is on to find Mr. Right, and Cassie's the first to find him: Parker Hamilton. He's good-looking, smart, cultured - and a doctor. Despite his obvious credentials, Cassie's not taking any chances. She's vetted Parker so thoroughly she could offer some pointers to the CIA. Needless to say, he passes with flying colors.

One thing I’ve learned this Valentine’s day is that fake fiancés should remain just that: fake. Pretending to be engaged to James Brody, the hot, single London deputy mayor who graces gossip columns, is just a business deal. Nothing more. I’m his appropriately demure fiancée that makes him look like he’s not the playboy the media thinks he is, and he’s my ticket to getting my pushy mum off my back about not being married and producing her two perfect grandchildren. The problem is, I’ve started to enjoy being with James. Then there’s that kiss we shared. Yeah, that.

Gabe and I are the dynamic duo of Hunter's Creek and have been ever since we were kids. My bestie is not only sweet and loyal, but he's totally hot in that flannel-wearing lumberjack way of his. Not that I see him like that. Well, not since we kissed that one time back in high school. Thank goodness we have each other, because life in a small town can bore the socks right off you. At least that was true until Hollywood showed up, bringing along hottie Joe Turner. Joe has my head turning so swiftly, I might just earn a degree in neck gymnastics.

Moving back to my Washington hometown is tough, but having Oliver Langdon as my neighbor is a whole lot tougher. He's the big shot behind Steamy Coffee, the same chain that's making life hard for the café I'm running for my aunt right next door. Sure, Oliver's got that tall, dark, and seriously-stop-being-so-handsome vibe going on. And yeah, I flirted with him before I knew he was my business rival. But chiseled jawlines aren't my kryptonite. He's the competition, plain and simple—even if things between us are heating up more than a cup of his fancy espresso.

When I get dumped during the romantic vows at a wedding, I hit rock bottom. It’s time I got serious about finding a decent man. So, I form a dating pact with two friends who are just as bad at choosing men as me. We agree to vet one another’s dates to weed out the weirdos and jerks. The no more bad dates pact is officially born.