I have a simple plan. Finish Royal Elite School and get into my dream university. One glance from the school’s king blows my plan up in smoke. One glance and he suffocates my air. One glance and he issues his death sentence. His first words spiral my life into irreparable chaos. “I will destroy you.” Everything about Aiden King is black. Black mind. Black heart. Black soul. I should’ve remained quiet and endured the time I have left. I didn’t. I made the irrevocable mistake of provoking the king on his throne. 

Logan Crowne needs one year from Ella. Twelve months living in his house, holding his hand, wearing his ring on her finger, and in exchange, she’ll get her father’s company in the divorce settlement. They have one year to convince his skeptical parents that they’re happily in love, and he’s settled enough to run Crowne Industries. Ella wants the company badly enough to live with a man who will never love her. She’ll sleep in his room and kiss him for show.

What's the probability of insulting the one guy on campus I need to help me pass statistics? If I knew, I wouldn't be standing in front of Wes Reynolds begging him to tutor me. Basketball player, sexy, arrogant, always sleeping through class...these are the things I knew about him. What I didn't know is that he is a seriously smart jock.

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. Something blue. I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old.” Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true. The name embossed on the blue stationery: Reed Eastwood, obviously the most romantic man who ever lived. I also discovered he’s the most gorgeous. If only my true-love fantasies had stopped there.