Mostrando resultados por autor "Kate O'Keeffe" en Todas las categorías

Have you ever faked a romance with the one guy who checks every box on your “absolutely not” list? I have. His name is Nick Zachary—New Zealand’s so-called “wild boy of rugby,” professional heartbreaker, and walking red flag. But desperate times call for mutually beneficial deals. He needs a reputation makeover. I need exposure for my struggling fashion label. So we strike a deal: I play his doting girlfriend in public. He plays nice for the cameras. We both get what we want. Easy enough… until it’s not. Because somewhere between staged hand-holding and fake kisses, I start ...

He needs a royal redemption arc. She needs to keep her distance. The public wants a story, preferably a romantic one. I called him Ledonia's most eligible man-child in a headline. Now I'm living at his palace. After my no-holds-barred exposé on Prince Maximilien goes viral, the royal family doesn't banish me—they hire me. Apparently, the King and Queen think damage control looks like me filming an exclusive behind-the-scenes series on their charming, cocky, scandal-prone son. Prince Max isn't thrilled. In fact, he downright despises me. Which is fine. Because the feeling? Entirely mutual.

Taking the bull by the horns is child's play compared to ruling Malveaux. Yet here I am, a Texas girl turned princess, swapping tacos for a tiara. Then I meet Europe's most eligible bachelor, the irritatingly handsome Prince Alexander, and accidentally deck him instead of curtsying. Oops. I'd feel bad if he wasn't such a self-satisfied jerk. Now, I'm racing against a royal clock that ticks with the urgency of a preening peacock, trying not to let down my newfound country or my own wild heart. Alexander?

I’m the last woman standing in the “Last First Date” pact with my friends, and it looks like Cupid’s playing hard to get. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to find The One. I’ve been speed dating like it’s an Olympic sport, but a love match is still out of reach. You see, I've had my share of love and loss, and at 30, playing the lead in an unrequited love saga was definitely not my plan. But that’s exactly where I find myself, wanting more with Ryan Jones, a walking, talking romantic riddle. He’s a perfect blend of Prince Charming and Thor (minus the hammer, obviously...

I've got 99 problems, and picking the wrong guy might be all of them. I've always had my royal checklist: Attend the Husband Hunting Ball? Check. Find the perfect match for a princess like me? Check. Feel zero sparks with Mr. Right (aka Enzo Revera)? Sadly, double check. But then I meet Marco, Enzo's charming and rugged brother. He's everything I shouldn't want, especially since I've planned my life to avoid the messiness of love. When a twist of fate puts Marco at my side, I can't deny our chemistry, even if he's all wrong for a princess like me.

The boy I couldn’t forget just became the man I can’t resist. Alex Walsh is the last man I want to see again. He’s charming, talented, maddeningly handsome—and the boy who once kissed me, then broke my heart in front of the whole school. That humiliation? Still burned into memory. Now, years later, I’m stuck working with him, curating his photo exhibition at the gallery. He’s still the full package, and what's worse? He knows it. But I’m not that girl anymore. My friends and I made a pact to stop chasing the wrong guys. And no matter how much his photographs move me, or how ...

Cast in a reality dating show, Emma Brady isn’t looking for love. She knows it could be the big break her new activewear line desperately needs. But is putting up with a Mr. Darcy wannabe worth it? Sebastian Huntington-Ross is straight out of an Austen novel, and his looks are perfect for the show’s spotlight. But it’s hard to focus on his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and wickedly sexy accent when all Emma can see is his pride, arrogance, and smug demeanor.

My assignment to cover the Chicago Blizzard's Christmas charity events turns unexpectedly into a viral feud with star defenseman Harrison Clarke—in a Santa suit. It gets weirder. Heard of fake dating? This has now become fake hating, and our staged fights are heating up the media—and with it our unexpected romantic connection. But with my daughter, Macy, my career aspirations, and Harrison's mysterious past in play, this holiday romance might be over before it begins.

It's one thing to be dumped by the huge Hollywood star you thought you were going to marry. It’s quite another to move back to the small town you're both from. As a booby prize for being shown the door by Dex Ryder, everyone is trying to set me up with their son, their nephew, or their long-lost cousin’s gardener. Either that or they’re throwing me pitying looks that say, “You’re a big loser.”

Swearing off love was easy. Then two men and one dating pact complicated everything. After one too many heartbreaks (and one stolen-shoes incident I’m still not over), I made a pact with my friends: the next guy I date, I marry. Cute in theory. Terrifying in practice. Especially when Marcus Hann strolls into the Cozy Cottage Café looking like every swoony book boyfriend rolled into one. Handsome, charming, and so into me it’s almost suspicious. Obviously, he’s my Last First Date. I mean, fate, right? Except my well-meaning friends already picked someone for me. Josh Bentley, the pun-...

I’m the queen of dating disasters - I’ve had more rotten dates than you can shake a long-stemmed rose at. After years of one disappointment after another, I’m beginning to feel like I’ll never say “I do.” So after being dumped one too many times, I do something stupid: I make a pact with my best friend Asher. If neither of us is married by 35, we tie the knot. I’ve got to meet Mr. Right by then, don’t I? But when I take a job redecorating Asher’s bachelor pad, I realize he’s a lot different from the guy I thought he was.

I fell in love with Mr. Darcy on a reality TV show. Cue the happily ever after. Can you believe it? Me, Emma Brady, the girl who managed to turn reality TV humiliation into a real-life fairy tale, has fallen head over heels for my own Mr. Darcy while the entire nation watched. Yep, I'm the living proof that even the most unlikely of matches can light up the screen. And guess what? Hold onto your tiaras because now my Mr. Darcy has gone and proposed, complete with a promise of happily ever after in his posh English manor. Cue the confetti cannons and unicorns, right? Not so fast. Life ...

What do you do when you find yourself falling for the wrong guy on a reality TV dating show? Welcome to my world. I'm Phoebe Wilson, ultimate hopeless romantic. I mean, I've devoured Pride and Prejudice so many times that even Jane Austen would give me a high-five. So, when the chance to be on the reality TV show “Dating Mr. Darcy” popped up, it was a total no brainer for me. It’s Mr. Darcy, people! The embodiment of romantic perfection. But there’s a hitch. My heart has taken a detour to the guy standing in the wings. That's right, I'm falling for Mr. Darcy’s best friend, Mr. ...

Noah Grant was my first. He was the guy who went from childhood friend to teenage love. The guy I spent one heady, intoxicating summer with, only to have my heart snapped in two—not by him, but by me. Fast forward 12 years and just when I think I’m finally over Noah, he’s back. Older, wiser, hotter.

Love, marriage…and then a family. It’s the same old story. If only it could be ours. Well, here's a reality check for you: life's remixing that old song that goes “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage”. You know the one. Me and my real life Mr. Darcy are happily grooving to that tune—right up until things take a sharp left turn. It seems for us, creating a mini Darcy is like baking a soufflé without a recipe—a very tricky business, and so far our attempts are fizzling out faster than a New Year's resolution. So, I declare war. It’s what ...

Being a princess means living by 1200+ rules—I've counted them all in my leather-bound journal—including Rule #124: "No climbing trees" and Rule #592: "A princess must never leave the palace without security detail." So when I swap my tiara for a goth disguise and escape the palace for a grand adventure as "Amy," I'm breaking every royal protocol imaginable. Hiding from paparazzi, I meet a gorgeous American stranger who's also on the run.

I hate Charlie Cavendish. Rich. Over-privileged. Smug. The guy’s far too good-looking for his own good, and he’s always got that smirk teasing at the edges of his mouth, telling me what he thinks of me. And now, my worst nightmare has come true. Charles Cavendish has moved into my building, which means I can’t avoid seeing him everywhere I go. He’s always there, judging me, especially when I come in late at night. Hey, I can’t help it if my “single American girl in London” writing gig means I’ve got to check out every new club in town.

One thing I’ve learned this Valentine’s day is that fake fiancés should remain just that: fake. Pretending to be engaged to James Brody, the hot, single London deputy mayor who graces gossip columns, is just a business deal. Nothing more. I’m his appropriately demure fiancée that makes him look like he’s not the playboy the media thinks he is, and he’s my ticket to getting my pushy mum off my back about not being married and producing her two perfect grandchildren. The problem is, I’ve started to enjoy being with James. Then there’s that kiss we shared. Yeah, that.

Cassie is sick of dating. It's been 10 years and it's time to find The One. It's either that or buy a fetching habit and veil and abandon the whole thing. But Cassie believes in love, and she's not ready to give up yet. The pressure is on to find Mr. Right, and Cassie's the first to find him: Parker Hamilton. He's good-looking, smart, cultured - and a doctor. Despite his obvious credentials, Cassie's not taking any chances. She's vetted Parker so thoroughly she could offer some pointers to the CIA. Needless to say, he passes with flying colors.

When I get dumped during the romantic vows at a wedding, I hit rock bottom. It’s time I got serious about finding a decent man. So, I form a dating pact with two friends who are just as bad at choosing men as me. We agree to vet one another’s dates to weed out the weirdos and jerks. The no more bad dates pact is officially born.