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You don't know me, but you do know me. I'm your neighborhood hot mess single mom, doing my best to keep my head above water while running my little slice of heaven and keeping my youngest from shoving marbles up his nose, which is exactly what he's doing the first time Levi Wilson, pop star god, world's sexiest man, and my all-time number one celebrity obsession, walks into my bookstore.
Related: I'm writing this from beyond the grave, because I've died of mortification and am now residing in an alternate universe.
I have to be.
Because Levi Wilson came back.
And we had a moment.
Like, a moment moment. The kind that makes me remember that adult pleasure isn't all about hoping the lock holds in the bathroom so your kids don't interrupt on the rare occasion you feel like taking an extra-long mommy-time shower.
So when he proposes a no-strings fling?
Count. Me. In.
Thrill of a lifetime, right?
Surely, nothing will go wrong...
The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob is a rockin' fun, sexy romantic comedy featuring a celebrity panty-melter who doesn't know what he's been missing, a sassy single mom hanging on by a string, three adorable children who would never burst in on a woman when she's on a toilet (ha!), and shameless ovary-busting moments between a guy who never thought he'd be a dad and a family who thought they got along just fine without him. It stands alone and comes complete with a happily-ever-after.
Be still my panties. I think I’m in trouble.
If people have polar opposites, Luca Rossi is mine.
His butt is in the baseball hall of fame. Mine’s comfortably seated in the hall of lame.
When he’s not snagging fly balls out in center field, he’s modeling in shampoo commercials. I once jammed my own finger while stirring cookie dough, and sometimes I forget shampoo is a thing.
He’s a total cynic when it comes to love.
I make a living writing love stories.
But after my latest broken engagement (no, I don’t want to talk about how many times that’s happened), it’s clear he’s exactly the man I need.
If anyone can teach me to be the opposite of me, it’s him.
The first thing I want him to teach me?
How to not fall in love.
And as luck would have it, he’s in desperate need of a fake girlfriend to get a meddling grandmother off his back.
We couldn’t be more perfect together, because the last thing Luca Rossi will ever be is the next man to leave me at the altar.
Or will he?
Real Fake Love is a line drive straight to the heart featuring a grumpy athlete, a jilted bride, a fake relationship, and the world’s laziest cat. It stands alone and comes complete with sibling rivalry, the world’s most awkward shower scene, and a sweetly satisfying happily ever after.
"Kiss me? I thought you wanted to throttle me."
"Kissing and throttling aren't mutually exclusive with you."
Never borrow pants from your brother. Especially if he’s a size smaller than you are, because all that pressure in the junk will short-circuit your brain.
And you’ll lie to a woman in a club about your real name.
Leave her unsatisfied after making out in a bathroom.
Then find out that she’s the one thing standing in the way of your dreams. And she very much doesn’t like being lied to.
Now I have to convince Lila Valentine—the woman I can’t stop thinking about, my biggest regret, and my new boss—that I’m what’s best for the baseball team she’s inherited.
If we can’t work together to save the Fireballs, the commissioner’s forcing a sale and moving them across the country.
I’ll do anything to save my home team.
But the one thing I can’t do?
Keep my hands to myself.
Which would be fine, if she hadn’t been telling me lies this whole time too.
Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire is a rocking fun romance between a single dad obsessed with baseball, an heiress with secrets, baseball pants, a rundown team, and rabid ducks. It stands alone and comes with a guaranteed happily-ever-after.
Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend.
Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet.
Target: Grady Rock. Master Baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends.
Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me.
And the man who just scared off that perfect fake boyfriend.
By pretending to be my real boyfriend.
I can roll with this though. What’s the harm in Flirting with the Frenemy if it helps me get the job done?
Complete my mission and move on.
Or so I thought.
Until Wyatt kisses me again and I start feeling things I shouldn't.
The thing about weddings...nothing ever goes as planned.
Flirting with the Frenemy is a rollicking fun romantic comedy featuring a single dad military man, an irritatingly attractive blast from his past, pirates, cursing parrots, and a wedding gone wild. It stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers.
When you’re named after the king of the gods, the world expects certain things of you.
Tough? Damn right.
Smart? Don’t let the hockey uniform fool you.
Large and in charge? Honey, I’m the biggest, baddest, mother pucking-est machine to ever own the ice. I shoot. I score. In and out of the rink. I don’t come early, but I come often, if you know what I mean. And I always leave the ladies wanting more.
Until that chick last night.
I’m no one-thrust wonder, and you’re damn right I’m going to prove to her I can do better. But every time I think I’m finally on my way back into her pants, she one-ups and out-balls me.
I should cut my losses, lick my wounds, and walk away.
But Zeus Berger doesn’t walk away from anything.
Especially when she's the only woman in the world who might be able to handle me.
The Pilot and the Puck-Up is a standalone romantic comedy featuring a hockey player whose ego is the only thing bigger than his shoe size, the most badass woman to ever fly a plane, rubber chockey (don't ask), and no cheating or cliffhangers.
Yeah. I just basically did the equivalent. Except worse. Now my millions of social media followers are reading and sharing the rude, smartass message I meant to send privately to my little sister as a joke...and I’m officially public enemy number one.
I’m Beck Ryder. Former boy bander. Underwear model. Fashion mogul. And I buried my entire leg in my mouth—not just my foot—modern internet style, and publicly insulted my sister’s neighbor.
Also known as the woman of my dreams, who loves geeky TV shows, baseball, and giraffes, who’s just as turned on by food as I am, and who has a huge secret that I didn’t see coming.
Now it's time to grovel and apologize publicly on social media and hope that those same followers who helped start the raging shitstorm will help calm the waters.
Because Sarah doesn’t want the spotlight. For very good reasons that I can’t tell you right now and trying to convince her to be my fake girlfriend to fix this mess and make me look like less of a jackass is worse than taking a kick to the nuts by Jackie Chan.
And I thought modeling underwear made me feel naked.
Trying to start a relationship in the era of the Twitterazzi isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
America’s Geekheart is a rockin’ fun romantic comedy featuring a billionaire fashion mogul who got his start modeling underwear, the geeky girl next door with a secret the size of California, and more superstitions and secrets than you can shake a baseball bat at. It stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers.
When you work hard and have the bank account to prove it, you’re entitled to play hard. I’ve seen some crazy things. I’ve caused some crazy scenes. And there’s no shame in my game.
But I’m still knocked off my stilettos when an insane chain of events leads to me inheriting a baby. The craziest part? The baby comes with a by-the-books, no-nonsense retired Marine who's so regimented that I wouldn't be surprised if he irons his boxer shorts.
Parenting? Bring it on. I don’t need sleep—I once started my day with business meetings in Cairo and ended it three days later at a club in Melbourne. Changing diapers? Please. It can't be any more challenging than changing out of Spanx on the back of a moving motorcycle. Training the little guy to run the family’s real estate empire? He’ll be all our bosses by the time he’s four.
But living with my new co-guardian? The gruff, muscled, tattooed former military man who manages to check all my boxes while trying to sneak under my skin?
He needs to go.
Because the longer he stays, the more layers he’s peeling off my heart.
But love isn’t something that’s ever diluted my gene pool, and I like my life just fine without it. I have awesome friends, this adorable baby and an obscene amount of money. Who needs love?
Turns out…maybe me.
Crazy for Loving You is a larger-than life ride through accidental parenthood featuring a fun-loving billionaire playgirl, a crusty Marine with a gooey center, a horny dolphin, the world’s most obscene pool, and all the fun you’d expect from a world built by Lucy Score, Claire Kingsley, Kathryn Nolan, and Pippa Grant.
The Bluewater Billionaires are four shared-world hot romantic comedies written by Lucy Score, Claire Kingsley, Kathryn Nolan, and Pippa Grant. They can all be read as stand-alone novels.
Nick Murphy. Hockey god. My best friend’s big brother. My friend-with-mindblowing-benefits. The best thing to happen to my nether regions since my subscription to the toy of the month club. The man I’ve been secretly in love with for years.
And total ass.
I am so done with him.
Except there’s one small problem.
Now that I’ve cut him off, his hockey game is in the toilet. He’s convinced I’m his good luck charm, and he wants me back. But only for his game.
I’ll be strong. I will. I’ll resist.
Asses don’t change their stripes.
Or do they?
This plan would be so easy if the man wasn't Charming as Puck...
Charming as Puck is a romping fun romance between a hockey player and his sister's best friend, complete with farm animals, epic birthday presents, and Berger Twin sightings. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating or cliffhangers and ends with a pucking awesome happily ever after.
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.
Call it superstition, but when a guy bats as hot as Brooks Elliott, you don’t mess with what’s working. And what’s working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field.
So when I hear he’s planning to ditch his V-card now that he’s been traded to baseball’s lovable losers—aka my home team and my reason for living every March through October—I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do.
I make a plan to stop him.
But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him.
Lots. And lots. And lots of time.
And the more time I spend with him, the more I like him. Not as the guy who’s going to help save my favorite team and finally bring home a championship ring, but as the guy who’s helping me in my quest to bring back the team’s old mascot. Who also loves making pancake and bacon sandwiches. And who would do almost anything for his love of the game.
But after all this time of jock-blocking him…do I even have a chance?
And if I do, are we both destined to a life of celibacy in the name of winning?
Jock Blocked is a home run of a feel-good romantic comedy featuring the world’s most superstitious sports fan, baseball’s oldest virgin hero, a rogue meatball, an adorable puppy with a cussing problem, and the best lovable losers. It stands alone and comes with a happily ever after more satisfying than a game-winning grand slam.
”My favorite rom-com debut ever.” - Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Lucy Score
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.
When you’re an heir so spare that getting attacked by a shark is more likely than you ever wearing the crown, you’re only allowed certain liberties. Yet still, those liberties can bite you in the ass.
Good thing I’m such a charming devil.
Even then, I’ve been banished to America for a year under the pretense of playing professional hockey while my father cleans up my latest mess. But trouble follows me wherever I go. Generally trouble of the beautiful female variety, and Gracie Diamonte is no exception. Or possibly, she’s the best exception.
Until the dinosaur suit. The cookie incident. And the accidental pregnancy.
Of course I’ll do the right thing.
Just as soon as I solve that pesky problem of my royal betrothal.
I’m about to be the biggest scandal to rock my country and there’s a good chance my father may throw me to the sharks after all. The funny thing is I’ve heard that raising children may not be so different from swimming with the sharks. So no matter how you look at things I am Royally Pucked.
Royally Pucked is a hilariously wrong romance between a spare heir and the lady least likely to ever wear a princess crown, complete with dirty cookies, an emotional support monkey, and lots of pucking around. This romantic comedy stands alone with no cheating, cliffhangers and ends happily with a family of…more than two.