Résultats de "Julia Kent" dans Toutes les catégories

Letters from your favorite leading men, addressed to your deepest fantasies. This audio-only anthology features love letters from some of your favorite book boyfriends, speaking directly to you - performed by voices you already love. Sometimes the letters are sweet, sometimes they're emotional, sometimes they're just plain filthy. This sultry collection of audio-only shorts is written by best-selling contemporary romance writers and performed by audiobook stars.

Colleen Luview's love life is cursed. No—really. The small-town nurse is notorious in her touristy mountain community. After every third date she's ever had, the guy ends up in her emergency room.

Luke Luview has given up on love. Finally ready to let go of his late wife’s clothes, the grieving small-town police officer and single dad thinks he’s hearing things when he opens the charity box door. Who knocks from the inside of a donation bin? The raccoon he assumes is in there turns out to be way prettier—and very familiar. Rescuing the first girl he ever kissed means life has dealt him a wild card with Kylie Hood, his late wife’s best friend who left town suddenly 15 years ago under a cloud of scandal.

Kell Luview refuses to be a sucker at love again. Five years ago, he left DC with his tail between his legs and his heart broken. Fiercely protective of his small town in rural Maine, he's determined to save the family tree business and avoid his feelings at all costs. LA native Rachel Hart hates being underestimated almost as much as she hates this small town. She has two goals on this trip: get out of the cheesy tourist trap of Love You, Maine, with a business deal, and avoid running into Kell, her old friend from DC who never became an old flame because of a huge misunderstanding.

As a shocking betrayal shakes the very foundation of everything he believes in, Kell must decide who to trust, who to challenge, who needs him most—and figure out fast whether Rachel’s warnings about his girlfriend are credible or yet another tactical maneuver in a city founded on them.

Mallory (Fluffy), Persephone (Perky), Fiona (Feisty), and Hastings (Hasty) come from the small town of Anderhill, Massachusetts, with lives that take sudden turns, as they get surprise “do-overs” when it comes to second-chance love. This boxed set features New York Times best-selling author Julia Kent’s first three books in the series, starting with the prequel, Little Miss Perfect. A romantic comedy, binge-listen, get ready for a massive laugh-fest escape!

I’m stuck in New York after ma agent makes a bloody mess of an otherwise good endorsement contract for a sports towel company, and this crazy American holiday - Thanksgiving - is in two days. The invitation to spend it in Mendon, Massachusetts with the Jacoby family is about as appealing as rotten haggis. As far as I can tell, Thanksgiving is about stuffing yerself silly, watching pathetic American “football”, while fighting with relatives ye only see once a year. Ma firm answer is nae. Until I remember Amy is part of the family. Suddenly, I’m available. Eager, even.

I get paid to follow a womanizing troglodyte who thinks rules are for other people and that my pants are the next pair he’s getting into. Bet your first professional job didn’t involve babysitting an extremely hot, muscle-bound Scottish highlander with an ego the size of a kilt and libido bigger than his…well…chicken. Keeping Scottish football (that’s "soccer" to us Americans) player Hamish McCormick away from inappropriate scandals while he does product endorsement campaigns is my mission. No problem. Until Hamish decides I’m his next scandal. And maybe more...

Mom owns more holiday decorations than 12 area malls combined. Dad prides himself on hand-chopping the best live tree, while my older sister perfected peppermint cookies to the point of unparalleled bliss, and my younger sister has memorized every Christmas carol with her fingers for a piano bash that goes on and on.

The last ever-loving thing I ever thought I’d become is a hypocrite. A big, fat one. Joe doesn’t even want me to meet his parents. Trevor’s fine with it, but only if they keep thinking I’m his girlfriend. And only his girlfriend. He doesn’t want that pesky little thing called truth to get in the way. Both of them are my boyfriends. Both.

I guzzled another flute of Champagne and froze, the liquid in my throat, waiting to be swallowed. Tyler was here. We’d met a few times before, in passing. He was the substitute bass player for the band; I was the lead guitar player’s girlfriend’s best friend. In that weird sort of social circle thing where Venn diagrams get laid over different groups, Tyler and I were bound to be in the crossover once in a while.

It’s Andrew and Amanda’s turn...in duplicate. We’re having twins. Twins. Which means my shooters are stronger than my brother’s. I win. Yeah, yeah, everyone can say it’s not a competition, but it is. And we all know it. Two babies at once means double the fun, and double the misery for my poor wife, Amanda.

I was ready to propose and I got upstaged by a snake. Not a real one. My bandmate. A case of mistaken identity almost derailed my proposal to Amy, but in the end, love prevailed. And my hand hurts from the punch, but it was worth it. She’s worth it. But I really need an ice pack now. Though a kiss from Amy and that yes are even better.

He says we never had a proper honeymoon. So, instead, he’s giving me...a prepper honeymoon? Who knew billionaire preppers were a thing? I guess I’m about to find out.

God damn! Charlotte, my ex-girlfriend, had to be here, of all places. At a bachelorette party where I was a stripper, dressed in a cop uniform with pants that suddenly got way too tight. And she had to be so fine. “Ooooh, honey, you’re one big officer,” said a sultry voice behind me as I watched Charlotte in the other room, chatting with the bride.

I never thought my perp walk would lead to true love. Then again, I never thought I’d be arrested on RICO charges and hauled away in zip ties on camera for the world to see, minutes after closing the most amazing deal of my career. And all of it in front of my biggest rival, billionaire wunderkind Ian McCrory.

You ever really think that you'll win the lottery? Meet Mr. Right? How about two Mr. Rights? Somehow the universe is handing me everything I want (except for that lottery part...), and I don't like it. Not one little bit. Because just when you get all your dreams handed to you on a silver platter, that's when an airplane dumps its sewage on your house. Or your mama's diabetes takes a bad turn. Or your mobile phone gets stuck in your hoohaw. (What? It happens...)

I swear I am not the kind of person who gets her cell phone caught in places that require an ER trip and an OBGYN. But apparently, I am. I’m also not the kind of person who spends all her time thinking about the guy who got away. But apparently, I am, too. Starting a new life in Boston isn’t supposed to include repeatedly embarrassing myself in public, meeting a crazy blond woman who has ties to the band Random Acts of Crazy, and definitely isn’t supposed to include wallowing in a past I thought I’d left behind four years ago.

I never intended to pick up a naked hitchhiker wearing nothing but a guitar. A guitar. Really. I don't collect guys like that (don't ask what kind of guys I do collect), but when you spot a blond, tanned, sculpted man with a gorgeous smile and his thumb poking up and practically begging you to stop - you stop. And I definitely never thought I'd be staring into the bright blue eyes of Trevor Connor, the lead singer for Random Acts of Crazy, an indie rock star I followed like the slobbering fileshare fangirl I am.

I'm not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland. Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends. So what is Chris "Fletch" Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he's pattern matching a picture to find a real person he's never met before? Oh. Oh, no. The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.