"Remember me?" I wipe the sleep out of my eyes. Do I remember this woman pounding at my door in the middle of the night? Vaguely, and not in the Biblical way. I recall the roller skates and pig tails of my best friend's younger sister. This woman in front of me is...well...a woman. She wants me to pretend I'm her fiancé at her grandmother's birthday party. In Florida. A road trip is the perfect excuse to miss the meeting where my father will tell me it's time to take over the family company. That's how all six feet of me wound up stuffed into a subcompact next to the nuttiest, most predictably unpredictable, charming, funny, deliciously sexy woman I've ever avoided my obligations with. She's got me managing snacks, sitting in a Cracker Barrel rocking chair, and sharing a cheap hotel room. But falling for her means I'll have to stick to my commitments, because I think I just may love her enough to tie myself down. Now I have to make her believe it before we get home to New York. ----- Check out all the books in the How to Marry a Billionaire series: Easton: The Billionaire's Guide to the Marriage Deal Dylan: The Playboy's Guide to the Fake Fiancee Max: The Alphahole's Guide to Marrying Your Enemy

An opposites-attract, fake marriage, lessons in seduction standalone romance! As a happily single man about town, the last thing I want to hear is that I only qualify to take over my family's company if I'm (shudders) tied down. But leading this company into the future is my passion, so I set out to find the perfect fake wife. Ideally, someone who isn't my type, so it'll be easy to walk away when I'm CEO and the marriage contract ends. Enter the smart-mouthed Phoebe. She makes flashcards for fun. She wears yoga pants. She's mouthy, uninhibited, and messy. Worst of all, I'm now stepfather to a cat named Roger. She's perfectly wrong for me. Everything's going to plan. It's like having a roommate for a year. Twelve months without sex won't kill me. Right? Month One: I notice her curves are *this* close to perfect. Month Two: Her lingerie hanging on the shower rod feeds prohibited marital fantasies. Month Three: Her curves are *actually perfect* and I'm ready to punch a loophole in the no-sex clause. Turns out Phoebe is too, and she has a contractual revision of her own. We absolutely, positively cannot fall in love... That's almost too easy. No way I'll fall in love with my fake wife. But what if I already have? ---- Check out all the books in the How to Marry a Billionaire series: Easton: The Billionaire's Guide to the Marriage Deal Dylan: The Playboy's Guide to the Fake Fiancee Max: The Alphahole's Guide to Marrying Your Enemy

My best friend's little sister is an infuriating, cantankerous, pretentious do-gooder who thinks me making a billion before I hit 30 means I'm a filthy, unethical robber baron—and she lets me know it every time she sees me. The fact that she's a sexy little minx notwithstanding, I wouldn't date her if she was the last woman on Earth. As a matter of fact, I've repeatedly fantasized about shipping her to Mars. But first, I need to get my mother to sell me her pigeon-plagued abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn so I can flip it into luxury lofts. And the only way to get her to sell it to me is to prove I have a soul. So I'm going to marry my best friend's bleeding-heart little sister, and once I get that building, I can pretend she lives on another planet. Just...one more hate-boink, for the road. And another on the road. And another. And another. How many times can two people hate-fonk before they stop hating each other? I think I'm finding out. ---- Check out the other two books in the How to Marry a Billionaire series: Easton: The Billionaire's Guide to the Marriage Deal Dylan: The Playboy's Guide to the Fake Fiancee

When this beach bunny caught the eye of Hugh Hefner at an L.A. nightclub, Izabella St. James was looking for a fun break from studying for the bar. As the latest Girlfriend of the Playboy founder, her ''break'' lasted two years, but life behind the gates of the Playboy Mansion was anything but fun. Sure there were parties, presents, puppies, and plastic surgery; but there was also a curfew, a strict regimen of who sits where on movie night, limited contact with the outside world, and a sex life that was anything but wild and crazy. While the E! reality show, The Girls Next Door, has been a ratings hit, each of the three Playboy Bunnies in the series has since left the Mansion in newsworthy ways: one is engaged to a football player, and Hugh's ''main'' Girlfriend has finally understood that there would be no fairy-tale marriage and family with the man she literally transformed her life for. Izabella was there to witness how each of these relationships formed, where each Girlfriend fell in the pecking - and bed - order, and when, exactly, the fabled life turned shabby and cheap. From catfights to sneaking in boyfriends, from high-profile guests in the Grotto to the bizarre rituals of the octogenarian at the center of the sexual revolution, Bunny Tales is compulsively readable and endlessly entertaining!

My instructions were simple: scour the city for the worst fake fiancé money can buy. Have her on my jet Monday morning, dressed appropriately for a yacht vacation. I need a woman believable enough to convince a certain client that I've changed my playboy ways?yet totally opposite from the supermodels and socialites I usually have on my arm. Somebody too annoying to tempt me-no emotional entanglements, thank you very much. This is business only. If she's unfazed by my looks and wealth, all the better. Should be easy. Right?Apparently not, because my people go and hire Tabitha. My hairdresser. What were they thinking? Yes, I said annoying, but I didn't mean Tabitha, the most frustrating woman in the world. Tabitha is bubbly. She has a pet hamster. She loves Hello Kitty, and she gets under my skin like nobody else. As if that's not bad enough, the minute we step on deck, she thinks that certain people on the yacht are up to something shady-based completely on her soap opera knowledge. She won't listen when I tell her she's being ridiculous. But as the days go by, I find that we're actually having fun. And our fake kisses are heating up. And suddenly her wild theories aren't sounding so strange after all?

They're dangerous men. Absolute enemies. And totally hot for each other. Will has never met anyone like Kit. He’s arrogant. Gorgeous. Totally lethal. The most expensive bodyguard money can buy. And Will can’t seem to resist him. A simple command in Kit's cut-glass accent makes Will want things he’s never wanted, do things he’s never done. Their red-hot chemistry is off the charts. Just one problem: Will has vowed to kill the billionaire that Kit is hell-bent on protecting. And Kit has secrets, too—his own reasons for sacrificing his soul, piece by painful piece, to keep one of the worst men on earth alive.