I met Bianca in an elevator. She was on her way to interview me when we got stuck. The beautiful raven-haired reporter assumed I was a delivery guy because of the way I was dressed. She had no clue I was really Dex Truitt, the wealthy, successful businessman she'd dubbed "Mister Moneybags"―her afternoon appointment.

I don't believe in fate. But if I did, I'd be certain that sassy wench sent me to add a little excitement to Max Parker's life. If anyone needs to take the stick out of his butt, it's him.KarlyI really scored when I became the receptionist for Milestone's newest law firm. Cushy office job with great hours and holiday pay? Check.Great location? Check.Two incredibly hot, identical twin lawyers? Check and check.But after a series of mishaps on my first day left the Parker brothers with a less-than-stellar first impression of my sparkling personality, I knew I had my work cut out for me. Especially where Max Parker was concerned. He wanted me gone the minute he laid eyes on me.I had two choices. I could make nice and be the professional, meek employee Max wanted. Or, I could be me and bring a little pleasure into that uptight, yet delicious man's life.Fun. I meant fun, not pleasure. But hey, if he's game...MaxKarly Brooks had no respect for authority, no sense of propriety, and a terrible disregard for punctuality. I wanted her gone.It didn't matter that she was gorgeous. Curvy, with flaming red hair and glittering green eyes. It didn't matter that my traitorous body reacted every time I saw her. I could ignore all that.She liked to play games? Well, game on. One way or another, I planned to win.Teasing Mr. Moneybags is book three in the Milestone Mischief Series. It is a steamy standalone novel with no cliffhanger.

Karl Marx's great work, Capital, has intrigued and puzzled readers for more than a century by its mystifyingly intricate arguments and dramatic literary embellishments. In this book, Robert Paul Wolff dispels much of the mystery surrounding Capital by providing a literary-philosophical analysis of the text and of Marx's intentions.

Dear Bridget, 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. I want you. The only reason I'm even admitting all of this to you right now is because I don't believe it's one-sided. I notice your eyes when you look at me, too. And as crass as I appear when we're joking around about sex, my attraction to you is not a joke. So, what's the purpose of this note? I guess it's a reminder that we're adults, that sex is healthy and natural, and that you can find me just through the door past the kitchen. More specifically, it's to let you know that I'm leaving said door cracked open from now on in case you'd fancy a British bedmate in the middle of the night sometime. No questions asked. Think about it. Or don't. Whatever you choose. It's doubtful I'll even end up sliding this letter under your door anyway. --Simon

Welcome to Whynot, North Carolina, population 3,872. It has one stoplight, one bar, and the one-and-only Trixie Mancinkus. Eleven years ago, Trixie graduated Harvard Law, turned down a job offer from one of the most prestigious law firms in Boston, and headed home to Whynot to open her own firm. Not only did she leave behind the big city, but she also left her boyfriend of three years. And just so we’re clear… that would be me. So what am I doing in Whynot at this very moment? It seems Trixie needs help with a legal case and for some insane reason, she called on me for assistance. I’ve been in town for five minutes, and I’m every bit as out of place as I feel. Trixie is all sweet, southern curves to my tailored suits and high-priced haircuts. It’s a culture clash of north versus south and about the only thing we have in common is our physical attraction to each other. But I have a new motto since coming to Whynot: When life hands you lemons, all you need is a little sex and sweet tea to make things better.

A sexy, cocky, Australian named Chance was the last person I expected to run into on my cross-country drive. When my car broke down, we made a deal. Next thing I knew, we were traveling together, spending sexually-tense nights in hotels and taking unplanned detours.

CARTER WRIGHT was used to being anything but Mr. Right. He wouldn't exactly call himself a street rat, but his life had somehow become a rags-to-riches story-one he'd rather keep to himself. The best part about being a stand-in to some of the wealthiest a-holes in New York? Access.To anything, and anyone, he wanted.And that certainly wasn't little Miss Moneybags, Presley Kincaid. No, he had his sights set on someone even hotter-her stepmother. But when Lauren asks him to stand in for her richer-than-sin fiancé at their rehearsal dinner, and then he's paired up with her spoiled daughter, Presley, at the wedding, Carter can do the only thing he's truly good at: Shut up. Smile. Be charming.Be the stand-in he was born to be.But when Presley turns out to be more than she pretends-and a one-night stand gives her more access to his past than he intended-Carter's simple, easygoing lifestyle starts to unravel, exposing the biggest lie of all. One so big Carter never even saw it coming.Will Presley accidentally expose the Stand-In for who he really is? Or will her discovery free Carter from the street hustle he's perfected and finally help him claim a life, and love, that was always meant to be? A Cocky Hero Club stand-alone novel