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 feet but 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 anything even a girl into profit. He pushes Casey to excel and dangles a carrot in front of her: graduate from business school, and you'll get a cool half-million bucks. Casey plays her father's game and gets that diploma and 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 father's dreams behind for crepes drenched in chocolate ganache, a bungalow on the beach, and a wind-in-your-face, tricked-out ride. She's convinced she has the hottest ride on the beach that is, until she meets Nate, her scorching-hot photographer neighbor. After experiencing what he can do with chocolate icing, Casey's convinced she's found the man who can satisfy her sweet tooth. But then she learns he's become her competitor and may be in cahoots with someone who's trying to sabotage her new business venture. Nate's fallen hard for the accident-prone beauty. Somehow or another, he has to convince her that his involvement with the bagel joint isn't 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.

A Bad Boy, a Good Girl, and Ice Cream Collide in the Best Little Wedding Town in America! Dahlia Mallard has finally found her destiny—running an ice cream shop in Bliss, the happiest bridal town in the Midwest. Problem is, her heart is bigger than her bank account, and she needs a serious influx of cash to get through the winter. Her last-ditch effort? Convincing country music superstar Billy Brenton to commit to attending her risqué flavor-tasting event to boost ticket sales. But the closest she can get to Billy is his drummer, the womanizing Mikey Diamond. Mikey loves the ladies, and he makes no secret of it. But he’s not such a fan of this town devoted to weddings, love, and marriage. And he’s even less of a fan of people using him to get to Billy. When circumstances land Mikey in Dahlia’s house, though, all his caution—and all his interest in any other single ladies—flies out the window. Dahlia’s quirky and funny and, unlike his usual women, she doesn’t tolerate any of his baloney. But when Mikey discovers that Dahlia, too, is using him to get close to Billy, will he take the chance to be her hero instead, or will he revert to his manwhore ways? * * * From Smittened: The doorbell dinged out the ice cream truck song that Great Aunt Agnes, rest her soul, had installed shortly before she kicked the bucket. Two years, and Dahlia still couldn’t figure out how to change it to a normal ding. She popped up to the front of the store to take care of her customers. Except it wasn’t customers. It was Mikey. She braced herself and girded her loins, which, quite honestly, needed a lot of girding. Especially when he aimed that smile and those gray eyes at her. He strolled over the black checkered floor, all lanky grace and undeniable sensuality in his leather jacket, cowboy boots, omnipresent ball cap, and new blue jeans. “My favorite ice cream lady,” he said. Her heart squeezed. Charmer, she reminded herself. And not even a good one at that. “You say that to all the ice cream ladies you meet.” “Not anymore.” He winked and propped his elbows on the glass counter over the tubs of ice cream. He lifted a suggestive eyebrow. “Was hoping to try some of that Cherry Popper ice cream for lunch.” “What—how—who—Hush!” No one was supposed to know anything on her adults-only menu until the tasting. Which meant he’d been snooping more in her house. The only thing more annoying than the smug in his smile was the way her pulse fluttered in response to it. “Saw a note,” he said casually. “I’m a big fan of cherries.” “So you’ve said a couple hundred times,” she muttered. He peered closer, his grin spreading wider to show off a row of perfectly aligned pearly whites. “Why, Miss Dahlia, you’ve been watching BillyVision.” He knew her name. Oh, sweet holy ducks, he knew her name. It sounded so exotic in his Southern drawl. Daawl-ya. “Well, yeah,” she forced out. “Billy’s hot.” His smile went bigger, and for the first time since last night’s fire, she noticed his eyes crinkling at the edges too. “But I’m better.” Yes. Yes he—no. No. She didn’t need to add philandering pig to her list of dating disasters. “I guess,” she said. “Sort of like the mashed potatoes that go with the Thanksgiving turkey.” The ego in his grin didn’t waver. “So you want to cover me with gravy? I might could be up for that.” That was not an image that should’ve been sexy. Chocolate syrup, yes. Warm caramel sauce, absolutely. Lumpy brown gravy on Mikey? Ducks help her, it was not totally revolting. She stepped back from the counter and grabbed a rag to wipe at an imaginary ice cream dribble. “You should probably stick to playing music,” she said. “Not sure you could do the gravy justice.” “Sure I could, sweet pea. I’m a man of many talents.” * * * Other Books in the Misfit Brides series: Blissed (Natalie and CJ) Matched (Will and Lindsey) Sugared (Kimmie and Josh, release date TBA) * * * If you liked Smittened, you'll love Southern Fried Blues! Check out Jamie Farrell's Officers' Ex-Wives Club series today! Keywords: Contemporary romance, Romantic Comedy, Smart Romance, Country rock star, ice cream, small town, bad boy, good girl, quick reads, musician, sexy romance, quirky romance

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.