There are three things I hate: Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett. Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It's been ten years since he took my virginity-I'd make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a brat-best joke, and yes, it kills me to admit that-and now he's not only a billionaire, he's also my new boss. Turns out our hate is mutual. And this kind of hate is horrifically twisted, filthy, and banging hot. I just might have to hate him forever. Mister McHottie is the hilariously sexy romantic comedy that your mother warned you about, complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

To the casual observer, Casey Thomas has had a perfect life. Sole heir to a wealthy, powerful business mogul, she seems to have the world at her feetbut life is not easy for a daughter whose father only wanted a son. Not to be deterred, Kenneth Thomas makes the best of bad circumstances and sets out to prove that he can transform anythingeven a girlinto profit. He pushes Casey to excel and dangles a carrot in front of her: graduate from business school, and youll get a cool half-million bucks. Casey plays her fathers game and gets that diplomaand the reward. And just like her father, she sets out to make the best of a bad situation. She uses the nest egg to fund her own sweet dreams of being a pastry chef, leaving her fathers dreams behind for crepes drenched in chocolate ganache, a bungalow on the beach, and a wind-in-your-face, tricked-out ride. Shes convinced she has the hottest ride on the beachthat is, until she meets Nate, her scorching-hot photographer neighbor. After experiencing what he can do with chocolate icing, Caseys convinced shes found the man who can satisfy her sweet tooth. But then she learns hes become her competitor and may be in cahoots with someone whos trying to sabotage her new business venture. Nates fallen hard for the accident-prone beauty. Somehow or another, he has to convince her that his involvement with the bagel joint isnt what it seems. Someone that rotten has no business looking that good.

There are two kinds of women in the world - those I can bang, and those I can't. My teammate's sister? She's a can't. I moved in with her to protect her from a nasty ex, not to be the next guy in line. She's the brains. I'm the brawn. She's the fruit. I'm the sausage. She talks too much. I don't talk at all, if I don't have to. Should be easy to resist her. But every minute I spend with Felicity is another minute she gets under my skin. She makes me feel like something more than a dumb puckhead with a big Zamboni pony. And it's getting harder to remember why I need to keep my hands to myself. Beauty and the Beefcake is a vegan-friendly standalone romantic comedy featuring a hockey player whose vocabulary is the only thing smaller than a hockey puck, a book-smart but aimless ventriloquist with too many voices in her head, a dilapidated old house that may or may not be haunted, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

You know those stories where an adorably misunderstood clumsy girl needs a fake date to a wedding so she asks her brother's best friend and they accidentally fall in love? I wish that was the kind of life I lead, but it's not. I don't need a date to a wedding. I need a date to a funeral. Clumsy sometimes fits, but then, that's true for all of us, right? But adorable? No. Misunderstood? Nope again. I'm just your average girl, standing in front of a funeral invitation, asking it to be a winning lottery ticket instead. And I don't have a brother, or a best friend with a brother available, which means I'm stuck with Tyler Jaeger. Sure, he's a professional hockey player who also knows advanced calculus, but let's say we're not compatible and leave it at that. I should know. I am a matchmaker. Not a very good one, but that's beside the point. I know a mismatch when I see one. Still, Tyler's what I've got, and I am not going to this funeral solo, so he's what I'll take. After all-what could go wrong at a funeral? I Pucking Love You is a hilariously wrong romantic comedy about the world's worst matchmaker, a hockey player with a problem he doesn't want to talk about, and an awkward date-of-convenience that everyone would prefer to forget. It comes complete with a cat working his way through his nine lives, all the sexy times, fish and chips, and a swoony happily-ever-after.

For anyone who's ever been on the receiving end of an unsolicited dick pic... He has the muscles of Adonis, an ego bigger than the sun, and a very clear desire to get back in my pants. Which would be fantastic if he weren't a SEAL and I wasn't a criminal. Although, I prefer the term avenger. I'm a hacktivist, cleaning up the cesspool of cyberspace one scam artist and troll at a time, and I sometimes bend a few rules to get justice done. He's a military man with abs of glory, sworn to uphold the letter of the law no matter its shortcomings. And if he'd known who-or what-I was, I doubt he would've banged me at my best friend's wedding reception. Or come back for more. Which is why he's now the only thing standing between me and one very pissed off internet troll who's figured out where I live. I'm pretty sure he'll get me out of this alive-and quite satisfied, thank you very much-but I'm also pretty sure this mission will end with me in handcuffs. And not the good kind of handcuffs. The Hero and the Hacktivist is a romping fun SEAL / Best Friend's Brother / Robin Hood in Cyberspace romance between a meathead and an heiress, complete with epic klutziness, terrible leg warmers, and an even worse phone virus gone wrong. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a fabulously fun happily ever after.