Olivia Brent has one summer to save the dairy farm she just inherited.
But there’s one problem, and it’s not her lactose intolerance. Jake Milovic.
The brooding farmhand has inherited exactly fifty percent of Brent Farm, and he’s so convinced the city girl can’t work the land, he bets she can’t save it in a summer. Determined to prove him wrong, Olivia accepts what might be the dumbest wager of her life.
His strategy to win seems simple: follow her around, shirtlessly distracting her between bouts of relentless taunting. And it’s effective-if his dark eyes and rare smiles aren’t enough to sidetrack her, the sweaty, rolling topography of the manbeast’s body would do the trick.
What they don’t know: they’ll have to weather more than each other.
Mysterious circumstances throw the farm into disarray, and with the dairy farm in danger, Olivia and Jake have to work together. But when they do, there’s more to fear than either of them imagined.
Because now their hearts are on the line, and the farm won’t be the only casualty if they fail.

Everyone hates parts of their job.

Maybe it’s the paperwork. Maybe it’s the day-to-day grind. Maybe it’s that client who never knows what they want or the guy who always cooks fish in the microwave. But not me. I love every corner of the Longbourne Flower Shop, every flower, every petal, every stem. I love the greenhouse, and I love Mrs. Bennet, my boss. I love creating, and I love being a florist. I don’t hate anything at all.

Except for Luke Bennet.

The Bennet brothers have come home to help their mom save the flower shop, and Luke is at the helm. His smile tells a tale of lust, loose and easy. He moves with the grace of a predator, feral and wild. A thing unbridled, without rules or constraints. When he comes home to save Longbourne, I almost can’t be mad at him. Almost.

He doesn’t remember that night I’ll never forget, that kiss, touched with whiskey and fire. It branded me like a red-hot iron. But it meant nothing to him.

Everyone hates part of their job, and I hate Luke Bennet. Because if I don’t, I’ll fall in love with him.

Gatsby meets Gossip Girl in this standalone contemporary romance where secret society parties and the thrill of the unknown tempt fate.
You are cordially invited to the party of the century.
There’s no greater thrill than in the moment a courier hands you the heavy invitation with those words etched on the front. Because you’ve just joined the most exclusive group in New York. The Bright Young Things.
Lavish parties. Irreverent treasure hunts. Every event is a sparkling spectacle, stalked not only by the media, but by the law, who’s declared war. They’re out to ruin everyone’s good time, starting with uncovering the mysterious benefactor leading the group, thus answering the question on everyone’s lips. Who is Cecelia Beaton?
And no one knows it’s me. If society finds out the truth, my plans will unravel. And with one smoldering look from a stranger, my carefully ordered world catches fire.
Because he has secrets of his own, secrets that could bring down everything I’ve built. But even the best kept secrets have a way of getting out.
Secrets and lies. Love and laughter. And two people with something to hide and everything to gain. Welcome to the party.

They say there’s no such thing as perfect, but I’ve built my life to perfection–the perfect boyfriend, the perfect apartment, the perfect career planning celebrity weddings. My job–my only job–is to make sure every event is absolutely and completely perfect.

What’s not perfect? Kash Bennet.

And I wish I didn’t find that so appealing.

I could have told you every perfectly imperfect thing about the gardener at Longbourne. Like his hair, lush and black and far too long. Or his nose, the flat bridge of a Greek god, bent a little like it’s been broken. Or his size. Beastly. Roped and corded with muscles, gleaming with sweat and peppered with dirt. There’s no escaping him, not if I’m going to use his family’s flower shop for my events.

But nothing is what it seems. And in the span of a heartbeat, my perfect life is turned inside out. They say the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody new. When Kash offers his services to the cause, it sounds like the perfect plan.

What’s not part of the plan? Falling in love with the gardener.

But they were right–there’s no such thing as perfect. And I’m the fool who finds out the hard way.

The second Annie Daschle tumbles into my arms, I’m a goner.
When she asks if we’re hiring at Wasted Words, I can only say yes, even though we aren’t-it’s that early on that I realize I can’t say no to her. Not when she asks me to show her around New York, even though I already know I should stay away. Not when she asks if we’re friends because I want her so much more than that.
But she isn’t mine, and she never can be.
She’s ten years younger than me-fresh out of high school, never been kissed. She’s my employee, just a kid with a heart condition that’s stopped her from living out loud like she’s always wanted. She’s never dated, never had a boyfriend, never lived, and I can’t be the one to break her heart the first time. I can’t be the one to show her what could be.
But God, how I want to.
Within a few staggering heartbeats, Annie and I are caught in the middle of something we can’t find our way out of, with no clear answers and no rules. And the moment she’s in my arms again, I realize she can’t control her heart. Not the decisions it makes.
Not the moment it stops.

My mother has summoned me home to take my place at Bower Bouquets, and as the heiress, I’m expected to do as I’m told. I’m expected to sit by her side as she does her best to decimate the Bennet family and their flower shop, Longbourne. I’m expected to play by her rules, or she’ll ruin me too. But the day I crash into Marcus Bennet changes everything. And the kiss seals the deal. If my mother finds out, I’ll lose everything–my family, my life, my security. Worse, she’ll make sure the Bennets pay for my mistakes. Falling in love with a Bennet is not an option. But I might not have a choice.

His body is as chiseled as Adonis. His lips are as sculpted as David. And his ego is the size of the Guggenheim. You know the type: wolfish smile and the gravity of a black hole–the kind of man who sucks all the air from the room the second he enters it. My cocky boss thinks this internship was wasted on me, and he doesn’t hesitate to let me know. But he’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it to him. If I can stay away from his devil lips, that is, lips that cut me down and kiss me in the same breath, leaving me certain he’s on a mission to ruin my life… …and maybe my heart.

He plays the bass with expert fingers. He plays women with intoxicating charm. And he’ll play me with the ease of a virtuoso. Who better to teach me to play than the master himself? I’m his model student, front row, pencil sharp. Pick-up lines? I’ve got them. Free drinks? By the dozen. Kissing? Let me grab my chapstick. But the most valuable lesson I’ve learned is that there’s so much I don’t know–like why his touch sets off a chain reaction straight to my nethers…or how I’m certain each kiss is the best I’ll ever have…until the moment his lips take mine again. There’s so much I don’t know…like the fact that I’m only a bet. But we are what we are, and he’s a player through and through.

Hate is a strong word.
Depending on the company, loathe is a good substitute. Abhor might be a little fancy, but it gets the job done. But the word that really sums up how I feel about Liam Darcy is, without question, hate.
He doesn’t seem to think much of me either. The second he lays his fault-seeking eyes on me, he sets out to oppose me. Everything about him is imposing, as if he consumes the nearby air to power the rise and fall of his broad chest, and it’s clear he resents my presence on his advertising team. Every idea I have is shot down. Every olive branch I offer is set on fire by nothing more than the blistering coals he calls eyes.
In return, I light him up with my words. It’s not as if he can dismiss me, since I work for his client, Wasted Words. Instead, he’s forced to tolerate me, which seems the closest we’ll ever be to friends. Fine by me. I can be civil and still hate Liam Darcy.
But if there’s more to him than his exterior shows, I won’t be able to hate him at all.
I might stumble over that line between love and hate and fall right into his arms.

I’ve always been able to separate feelings from chemosignals. A shot of dopamine, a dash of serotonin, and a sprinkle of oxytocin–and bam–you’re in love. And when egg meets sperm, you’re pregnant. I couldn’t even be surprised as I stared down at the little blue plus sign–because I knew exactly when and how and with whom it happened. The upside? I don’t have to go looking for a suitable mate. Genetically, he’s the cream of the crop. His musculature is a study in symmetry and strength; his height, imposing and dominant. He is a man who thrives on control and command, a man who survives on intelligence and resourcefulness–a perfect male specimen. And the whole package is wrapped up in a flawlessly tailored suit. I’m having this baby, and he insists we’re well-suited to have it together. And what’s worse? He wants more, in the way of love and marriage. But love isn’t real. It’s just a product of chemistry. If he changes my mind about that, we’re both in trouble.

Here I stand, clutching a bouquet of pale pink roses behind the doors of a Las Vegas chapel, and at the end of the aisle is the absolute last man I imagined would be waiting for me. Thomas Bane. Bestselling author. Notorious bad boy. Savagely handsome, dark as sin, chiseled as stone. And, somehow, my soon-to-be husband. Marry him, and I’ll land my dream job. Save him, and I’ll walk away with everything I’ve ever wanted. All I have to do is remember it’s all for show. None of it is real, no matter how real it feels. But first, I have to survive the kiss. And with lips like his, I don’t stand a chance.