Showing results by author "R.S. Grey" in All Categories

My assignment is simple: trek to a remote English cottage and convince Nathaniel Foster to let me work with him. Too bad he’s a complete and utter jerk. Who slams the door in a poor stranger’s face, leaving them shivering out in the snow? Nathaniel is God’s gift to readers everywhere. My publisher is desperate for his next book, which in turn makes me desperate to help him complete it. So what if he doesn’t want to play nice? I have no choice but to live and work with him in this snow-covered cottage, suffering under his piercing blue stare until it feels like I might combust.

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.

While most little girls grow up idolizing Ariel or Belle, I was banging a plastic gavel and pretending to be Judge Judy. I spent my summers divorcing Barbie and Ken and splitting their Dreamhouse assets. Now, my goal to become the very best acquisitions lawyer at the top firm in Chicago is within reach. I’m one month into my big-girl job at Elwood Hoyt, venti Starbucks in hand, ready to take on the day. The sleek elevator doors are about to close...then he steps in after me. Hudson Rhodes—the one senior partner I was told to avoid at all costs.

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.

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.

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.

He's the type of guy who hears the word "no" only when it's followed by "don't stop". Working for Dean Harper would be like selling my soul to the devil...and before you say anything, I don't care if the devil has punch-you-in-the-gut brown eyes and an ass to match. My soul isn't for sale.

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 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.

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!

Marry a man I barely know to save my family from ruin. It might’ve been simple, if my betrothed were anybody else. On our wedding day, my husband-to-be arrived at the courthouse like a black cloud rolling over Manhattan. Walt didn’t crack smiles or pepper in pleasantries as we exchanged hollow vows in front of the judge. His disdain for me was so palpable I assumed we’d walk out of that ceremony and resume our regularly scheduled programming. But then fate was like, Hold my beer. I got this.

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).

I've spent eight years wishing I'd fall out of love with Derek Knightley. Blowing out birthday candles, chasing after shooting stars, making it rain spare change into mall fountains - every time it's the same wish: Forget about Derek. But the day he walks back into my life, I realize there are two things time has yet to soften: my feelings for him and his chiseled jawline. It's infuriating that my heart still races when he walks into a room. I refuse to fall prey to old unrequited love, so I decide the less I'm around him, the better. Avoidance is key.

I was issued a warning: stay away from Ben Rosenberg. As Clifton Cove's resident "king", he thinks he's entitled to anyone and anything. The trouble is, I've spent my whole life following the rules and playing it safe. I know what it feels like to be the good girl. I'm the police chief's daughter and a librarian - for adorable children, no less. An all-nighter with a fictional hunk is about as exciting as my life gets until one day, fate decides to take pity on me and shove me straight into the path of Mr. Off-Limits himself.

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.

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.

When your life is a hot mess at 20, it's cute. At 27...well, not so much. It's just that my lofty dreams - making it as a real estate agent, paying rent on time, showering daily - have stayed just that: dreams. Oh, and love? I've decided love might be a little ambitious for me at the moment. Instead, I've settled for the two guys who will never leave me: Ben & Jerry. That is, until Dr. Adam Foxe takes up residence as the town's new vet.

As an Olympic rookie, Andie Foster has spent far more time in her cleats than between the sheets. For 21 years, her Friday nights have consisted of blocking shots rather than taking them. But now that she's landed in Rio, she's ready to see for herself if the rumors about the Olympic Village are true: The athletes are all sex-crazed maniacs....As Andie walks the line between rumor and reality, she's forced into the path of Frederick Archibald, a decorated Olympic swimmer and owner of a sexy British accent.

Casey Hughes is a struggling travel journalist desperate for a big break when she lands the assignment of a lifetime: hop on board Aurelia for its maiden voyage through paradise. While she’ll bask in the luxury cruise ship’s fine dining and complimentary spa treatments, her real mission is to snag an exclusive interview with Phillip Woodmont.

Lucas Thatcher has always been my enemy. It's been a decade since I've seen him, but our years on opposite coasts were less of a lasting peace and more of a temporary cease-fire. Now that we're both back in our small town, I know Lucas expects the same old war, but I've changed since high school - and from the looks of it, so has he. The arrogant boy who was my teenage rival is now a chiseled doctor armed with intimidating good looks.