Résultats de "Ann Einerson" dans Toutes les catégories

Santa had it right with his naughty and nice lists. Me? I was firmly Team Nice. Need help throwing together a holiday wedding in four days, big brother? No problem. Need me to share my bed with your super-hot best friend? If I must. Want to be sure I won't accidentally fall in love with said super hot best friend—Brooks Claus? Can't promise that. He may have moved away from our small town years ago, but there's something about being near him again that brings back memories of that innocent crush I never quite got over.

I, Fallon Hayes, need to stop playing pranks on my boss. Did I mention he's my new roommate? Being the private chef for the retired hockey player who haunts my fantasies is a bad idea. Living down the hall from him is an even worse idea, especially considering the one-night stand we had ten years ago. What happened back then was unforgettable. Proof that we are destined to hate each other. There are three reasons why I absolutely cannot fall for my boss/roommate/one-night-stand.

I know what everyone says about me—just an ATM where his heart used to be. Which might be true, until I saw her. I can't stop fantasizing about my new assistant. Bright-eyed and too young, Reese is not meant for someone like me. Should I have moved her desk outside my office? No, because now I have to see her constantly. Nothing says stay away from the good girl like late nights ordering her favorite takeout just to see her smile, right?

I, Everly Townstead, need to stop fantasizing about my brother's billionaire best friend. Should I have accidentally married the notorious charmer in Vegas? No, because his family is trying to buy my dad's company. Nothing says trust and unity between two businesses like an (accidental) marriage of convenience, right? Three reasons why I absolutely cannot fall for my fake husband: One: My brother would be furious. Two: I can't risk my heart getting broken again. Three: Cash Stafford doesn't do serious–ever. Smart girls like me don't end up with men who flirt with easy smiles.

Since I'm not going to fall for Dylan Stafford, it shouldn't matter that he shovels my driveway or looks at me like he could devour me. One kiss later—I, Marlow Taylor, am completely screwed.