Dirty Headlines

They say your first kiss should be earned. Mine was stolen by a devil in a masquerade mask under the black Chicago sky. They say the vows you take on your wedding day are sacred. Mine were broken before we left church. They say your heart only beats for one man. Mine split and bled for two rivals who fought for it until the bitter end. I was promised to Angelo Bandini, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Chicago Outfit. Then taken by Senator Wolfe Keaton, who held my father’s sins over his head to force me into marriage.

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.

JARED - If I had a dollar for every time Banner Morales made my heart skip a beat...The heart everyone assumes is frozen over. Her anger is...arousing. Every glare from those fire-spitting eyes, every time she grits her teeth, gets me...well, you know. If I had a dollar for every time she's put me in my place, I'd be an even richer man. I'm a successful sports agent because I assume "no" means you'll think about it. I'm sure what you meant to say is, "Coming right up." They say even rich men don't always get what they want, but those men don't know how to play the game.

Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning. I was late for the first day at my new job - a job I’d now have to compete for, even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons. She’d ticketed a long line of cars - except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine. Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine.

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.  

They say love and hate are the same feelings experienced under different circumstances, and it's true. The man who comes to me in my dreams also haunts me in my nightmares. He is a brilliant lawyer. A skilled criminal. A beautiful liar. A bully and a savior, a monster and a lover. Ten years ago, he made me run away from the small town where we lived. Now, he came for me in New York, and he isn't leaving until he takes me with him.

My resignation letter was rejected by my boss with his sexy, trademark smirk and an "I highly suggest you read the fine print of your contract...." So, I did. And now I've realized that unless I fake my death, poison him, or find a way to renegotiate my impossible contract, I'm stuck working under one of the cockiest and most ruthless bosses in New York. Then again, I thought that was the case until he called me late last night with an emergency proposition....

Hadley Jacobs is over Machlan Gibson. Sure, she’ll always be a little weak to the dimple in his right cheek and the way his five o’clock shadow makes him ruggedly handsome. But that’s not enough to cover every other thing about him because they all drive her nuts. Like how he won’t admit he’s wrong even when he knows it and how he drives his stupid car a million miles an hour on wet asphalt. As she rolls back into town and takes a seat at Crave, she won’t take the bait. She’s over him. Mostly.

That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star? Turns out, he's my son's new teacher. Oops. But I didn't know that the night I met Campbell. All I knew was he played my body the same way he played a guitar - like he owned it. My libido is still high-fiving me after being self-served for too many years, and we're both ready for another night or two of fun, especially since we don't just have chemistry in bed - we connect over everything. That is, until I learn he's the man who'll be coming to my house twice a week to teach my son the best music lessons money can buy.

It should have been easy. I needed the money. He needed a babysitter to keep him from snorting himself to death. I was cherry-picked especially for him. Responsible. Optimistic. Warm. Innocent. The worst part is that I should have known better. Alex Winslow. British rock star. Serial heartbreaker. Casanova with whiskey eyes. “Don’t get near the devil in a leather jacket. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.” Guess what? I didn’t listen. I signed the contract. World tour. Three months. Four Continents. 100 shows. My name is Indigo Bellamy, and I sold my soul to a tattooed god. 

I was expecting a proposal on my birthday, and I got dumped instead. How could I have been so clueless? Grams knew exactly how to distract me. The “cute boy next door” who’s been helping her with yard work clearly needs a little therapy. Who better to call than her newly single therapist granddaughter? She even fakes dementia to get me to visit, and now that I’m here she’s doing everything in her power to throw us together. Not that I’m complaining. Ryan is the sexiest man I’ve ever met.

I've hated Rachel Dawson since I was seven years old. My next-door neighbor and number-one sworn enemy - she's the reason why almost all of our childhood fights ended with me setting something of hers on fire. (Or, vice versa.) She snitched on me when I broke curfew. I snitched on her when she lied about having a boyfriend. We went back and forth like this throughout high school, both vowing to never talk to each other again when we went off to college. But that was until she showed up at my apartment during my senior year and asked me for a temporary place to stay. 

It was just a typical Monday. Until the big boss asked me to make the pitch for a prospective new client. After two years on shaky ground at work because of my screw up, an opportunity to impress the senior partners was just what I needed. Or so I thought, until I walked into the conference room and collided with the man I was supposed to pitch to. My coffee spilled, my files tumbled to the ground, and I almost lost my balance. And that was the good part of my day. Because the gorgeous man who crouched down and looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive was none other than my ex.

We met in the least likely of places. It started out innocently enough. I was “ScreenGod”, and she was “Montana”, but of course those weren’t our actual names, just the virtual cloaks we hid behind. Logging in at night and talking to her was my escape - my sanctuary. Her real name was Eden, I’d soon come to find out. From the first time we connected online, I found myself transfixed. She was an addiction. At first, we knew nothing about each other’s real identities...and she was adamant that we keep things that way.

Ten years ago, Whitney Gable caught me off guard with her long legs and grab-you-by-the-balls blue eyes. I didn't know or care what her name was. Like any Riscoff worth the family name, I went after what I wanted. We burned like a flash fire until she married another man. She hates me, and she should. I objected on her wedding day. Now she's home, with those same long legs and man-eater stare, but there's no ring on her finger. They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after, but I'm not done with Whitney Gable.