Mostrando resultados por autor "Vi Keeland" en Todas las categorías

It started out like any other morning on the train - until I became mesmerized by the guy sitting across the aisle. He was barking at someone on his phone like he ruled the world. Who did the stuck-up suit think he was...God? Actually, he looked like a god. That was about it.

When the board of directors of my company mandated that I go to a wellness facility in small-town Maine to recharge, that shouldn’t have included using a ladder to sneak out of the bedroom window at night and going to the local bar. But Brock Hawkins was so much more than just the hot bar owner. He owned half the town, built log cabins with his bare hands, and was apparently the most eligible man in all of Meadowbrook.

Dimpled smile of a boy. Hard body of a man. Sings like an angel. Screws like the devil. I was stuck between a rock(star) and a hard place. At fifteen, his poster hung on my bedroom wall. At twenty-five his body hovered over mine. Every girl’s fantasy became my reality. I was dating a rockstar. Yet I was slowly falling for another man. The problem was—the two men—they shared a tour bus. Flynn Beckham was the opening act. Dylan Ryder was the headliner. What happens when the opening act begins to shine so bright, it seems to dim everything else in its wake?

It all started with a bet. When my young son inherited half of his great grandfather’s historic inn, I decided to move us both to the place where I grew up. Notice I said half of the Inn. The other half now belonged to Levi Miller, the famous quarterback who had other ideas about what we should do with the property. We won’t mention that I accidentally injured him during our first meeting, causing him to get eight stitches. You could say we got off on the wrong foot. We bickered a lot as we both moved into the property while we figured things out.

The first time I met Brody Easton was in the men's locker room. It was my first interview as a professional sportscaster. The famed quarterback decided to bare all. And by all, I don't mean he told me any of his secrets. No. The arrogant ass decided to drop his towel just as I asked the first question. On camera.

From New York Times & USA Today Bestseller, Vi Keeland, comes a steamy new romance novel. The rules: No dating. No sex outside of the game. No disclosing the terms of the contract. Rules were made to be broken, right? Eight weeks ago I signed a contract. One that seemed like a good idea at the time. A handsome bachelor, luxury accommodations, and a chance to win a prize my family desperately needed. There were some rules though. Lots of them actually. Follow the script, no dating, sex, or disclosing the terms of the deal.

After getting ditched at the altar, every “I do” makes me want to scream. Which is a problem, considering I’m an associate editor at Bride magazine. Just when I thought my job couldn’t get any worse, I got roped into being a last-minute bridesmaid... and paired with Wilder Hayes.

The first time I met Dawson Reed, we wound up in bed. The problem was, neither of us knew the other were there. When I woke up in the middle of the night and found a stranger next to me, instinct kicked in and I attacked the intruder. Only it turned out, the man wasn’t an intruder at all. Dawson had rented this cabin, too. Apparently, a system glitch allowed a duplicate booking. We’d soon find out we were in town for the same wedding, and Dawson was the groomsman I’d been warned about. He was as tall, dark and jaw-droppingly gorgeous as my best friend had described.

As a college English professor, Elizabeth looks forward to the start of each new semester teaching her creative writing seminar. At least until she reads chapter one of The Reckoning, a tale about a high school senior who has an affair with her teacher. To anyone else it would be the beginning of a great page-turner, but to Elizabeth it is the beginning of the end. She knows this story. It’s all familiar because she lived it. The girl in the story was her best friend Jocelyn, and Elizabeth knows exactly how the story will end—with the professor dead. Because she was the one who killed him.

The first time I met Chase Parker, I didn't exactly make a good impression. I was hiding in the bathroom hallway of a restaurant, leaving a message for my best friend to save me from my awful date. He overheard and told me I was a bitch, then proceeded to offer me some dating advice. So I told him to mind his own damn business and went back to my miserable date. I couldn't help but sneak hidden glances at the condescending jerk on the other side of the room. Of course, he caught me on more than one occasion, and winked.

I’d never forgotten him - a man I’d yet to meet. Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break. Until one day, it did. Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one - one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing. Griffin forgave me, and we were able to rekindle our childhood connection.

A new, sexy standalone novel from New York Times Bestsellers Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward.

Hockey star Max Yearwood was everything I needed at the time - fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months, since he’d signed with a new team 3,000 miles away. Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right? Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.

The first time I met Merrick Crawford was during my job interview. Well, technically, I’d met him 20 minutes earlier when he’d barged into a fitting room a few doors down from my appointment. I yelled. He yelled. After an argument while standing in my bra, I proceeded to smash the door into the gorgeous jerk, trying to yank it shut. As you might imagine, I was freaked out when I discovered that the rude guy was my potential new boss. Yet he didn’t seem to recognize me. Or so I thought.... Until we wound up bickering again during my interview and he told me to go sniff my armpit.

Rule number one for having a one-night stand: Don’t fall for the girl. After a lengthy dating slump, I finally met someone who sparked my interest. Well, first the sparks flew when we argued. Later in the evening those sparks ignited into something more. I was drawn to Devyn, in a way I hadn’t felt in a really long time. Needless to say, I was disappointed when she abruptly left after our amazing night together. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But she hadn’t even given me her number. In a city with eight-million people, I figured I’d never see Devyn again.

Laurel Lake held the title America’s Friendliest Town for seventeen years running, and friendly was just what I needed right now. Unfortunately, friendly wasn’t the welcome I got when I arrived. Instead, I got Fox Cassidy. My tall, dark, and burly neighbor, who grunted at me instead of saying hello. Okay, so I might’ve had his mailbox in my hands the first time we met. And it might’ve been a little crushed after removing it from under my tire. And I might’ve needed his help breaking into the place I was staying in after the key broke off in the lock.

I'm writing this letter because it's highly doubtful I'll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. So, here goes. We're totally wrong for each other. You're the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I'm just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England. But here's the thing... for some bloody reason, I can't stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.

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.

When my grandmother found out she didn’t have long to live, she embarked on a crazy trip—jumping out of airplanes and scuba diving with sharks. After I repeatedly voiced my concern, Gram blocked me—her own grandson—on text and social media, leaving me only her travel companion Eleanor’s number.

Rule number one for dating your best friend’s sister: Don’t. Just don’t do it. Especially when your best friend is dead and the last thing he made you promise him was that you’d keep an eye on his little sister, but not too good of an eye.