検索キーワード： 著者 "Nicole Snow" すべてのカテゴリー

Cora: Never kiss an outlaw, they said. Easy advice, until the day my father's dirty secrets made me property of the Deadly Pistols Motorcycle Club. Easy, until I came face-to-face with the beautiful bastard who makes me burn with every glance - Firefly.

How did I get here? Oh, right - Daniel "Dust" Grayson. Scariest, sexiest man alive. The only man who's ever stolen my panties, lured me into his bed, and left me begging for more. This isn't what you're thinking. Yes, he's an outlaw. But I'm not in a world of hurt because he's president of the Deadly Pistols MC or because my big brother is his right-hand man. No, Dust tried to save me from myself. I can't let my secrets kill him.

Hell always screams into my life on two wheels, so why the hell does he look like heaven? Rabid's nothing like the other vicious thugs in the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club. When I see the dark ink dancing on his stunning body, I almost believe he's here to save me instead of just seduce me. But I won't be fooled again. All the club brings is ruin, and they're back to give me more.

Forget the flowers and tender kisses. Tomorrow I'm marrying a man who took a bullet for me, and I don't have a choice. Did I say he's an outlaw? Asphalt has slayed more men on the road and taken more women between the sheets than I can ever count. He's arrogant and savage. So why the hell can't I keep my lips off his when he gives me that smirk and whispers filthy things in my ear?

He's going to kill me when he finds out. I should've left Roman behind after our unforgettable fling two summers ago. I wasn't supposed to end up having his kid, always looking over my shoulder for the last man in the world meant to be a father. But danger has a funny way of betraying a woman's best-kept secrets and reigniting old flames that should've died on a hot summer night.

I wasn't supposed to end up in an outlaw biker's bed. I wasn't supposed to love it. I definitely wasn't supposed to crave his fiery kisses, beg for his touch, or ache to know the man behind the evil-looking ink and scarred smirk. I was the good girl. He was the monster. Then everything changed. I became a prisoner. I prayed for Skin to save me. He did - and he kept me for himself.

His proposal came in a little black envelope with 13 unlucky words: You still owe me that favor, doll, and I'm cashing in. Marry me. In a normal life, I'd never get hitched to Calvin Randolph. Not with his heart-stopping blue eyes, infamous player reputation, and an ego bigger than the part of his anatomy he loves boasting about the most. Been there, done that. All except the last part, which he's left to my shameful imagination for seven years apart. Of course, the fake fiancée contract I just signed is anything but normal.

I loved her like a sister forever ago. Before life served us tragedy with a bitter cherry on top. Before I learned love isn't a damn fairy tale. Before I became a single dad. Protecting my little girl is all I still care about. Kendra is my lifeline if she'll just play along. Her job is easy. Wear my ring. Turn my scowl into a family man's smile. Help save my daughter from a scorched earth custody fight. She gets the Cinderella treatment in return. My money, my mansion, my reputation. Simple. Painless. Mutual.

Cinderella had it easy. I'm lying to millions of people, and it's all Silas's fault. Yes, that Silas. Billionaire, prince, scandals galore, downright royal bastard - everything that screams run. If only it weren't for his rock-hard edges and wild tattoos, tempting anything female on all seven continents. But I don't care about his looks. Really. Our deal is simple. He needs a pretty little lie, a wife to cover up his dirty deeds. I need a fortune to buy the treatment that just might save my father's life.

He was just a hookup. I wasn't supposed to see him again. He wasn't supposed to be my boss. Or Dad's new business partner. We weren't supposed to keep doing this, night after sheet-clenching, heart-pounding, lip-biting night.

Once, Lucus Shaw was my everything. First kiss. First surrender. First man to promise me a ring, children, a life together. I remember his rogue smirk, his soul stinging kiss, the blistering words that always made him a little dangerous. I gave him my body for one insatiable night. He gave me secrets, heartbreak, and hatred. Friends to lovers to mortal enemies. Our tragic destiny. But I survived. Adapted. Moved on. Fate doesn't care. Luke's back, and I have to pretend we still have a Cinderella romance to save my career.

Nur Freunde? Ist ein Pfirsichkuchen im Gesicht nur ein kleines Missgeschick? Ich weiß, wie ich mich an dem Tag gefühlt habe, als Quinn Faulkner mich davor bewahrt hat, wegen eines Kuchens tot umzufallen. Mein bester Freund war immer der Auserwählte. Der Unerreichbare. Älter. Makellos. Brutal attraktiv. Kleinstadtprinz und Schwarm meiner Sommernächte. Viel zu gut für eine Mitläuferin und einen Tanznerd wie mich.

Strange men do funny things when you score the last cinnamon roll. Sometimes he rages about the high crime of jacking his precious pastry. Sometimes he offers you ludicrous bribes to buy it back. And sometimes—after shattering your faith in humanity—you find out he's your new boss. I'm not laughing.

There's nothing tiny about Brock Winthrope. He even roars like a lion when he sees me. I scream back. And after narrowly avoiding a murder scene, we've got trouble. He says he'll fix our reservation blunder since he's the manager (he's not). He thinks I'll smack his resort with the rotten-egg review from hell (I might). I've never seen a man so grumpy groveling his heart out to wow me (it's working). Oh, but it gets better. Brock whisks me away on an amazing “date”, and things get heated.

It was one little dare with razor-sharp teeth—work for him. Yes, he's a fire-breathing grump and gazillionaire bachelor. Yes, I just gave him an ego check he'll never forget. Yes, he's still offering me the job dreams are made of. But Cole Lancaster is the stuff of bossy nightmares. Too handsome for real life. Big Coffee kingpin. Guarded papa bear. His precious daughter is the only reason he ever stops grumping for five seconds. I'm sure I can deal with his scowls and cutting glances for one huge payday. Only, sometimes your best assumptions are dead wrong.

Grandma left me the life of my dreams with one ginormous catch. Miles flipping Cromwell. Workaholic king of grumps. Control freak. Older billionaire next door. We didn't exactly hit it off when he showed up with an offer to buy my land and my hyperactive dogs yanked my robe open right in front of him. I wish running him off my porch totally mortified was the worst part. But reopening Washington's cutest inn gets crazy expensive. When Seattle's hottest cranky-face bachelor comes knocking again, he has me cornered. This time with a high-paid job offer I can't refuse.

A force of nature blew in. His name is Chris Triton. Tattooed god. Moody ex SEAL. Zero filter. Born to drive me bonkers. We barely spoke for 10 minutes before he kissed my soul out. Too fast. Too intense. Too flipping good. Then I found out we'd be sharing the same roof the very next day. Dad marrying his mom squashed our little chemistry experiment instantly. You know, the normal reaction. But Chris doesn't do normal. Or predictable. Or sane.

My fresh start turned into a dumpster fire. Awesome new job. Small town heaven. Friendly faces galore. Then I strolled into my new home and found the unspeakable. Just when I'm sure it can't get worse, I'm “rescued” by a man who makes me see red for miles. Enter Lucas Graves. A bossy grump with a badge who's sworn to keep me safe. He rocks the scary-hot vibe, he reads too much, and he never misses a chance to give me crap for being a nerdy little cactus who mouths back. Not the type of man I'd go for in my right mind. Definitely not the type I should keep trading bruising kisses with.

Eleanor Lark is an upbeat illustrator plagued by headaches and unruly strawberry blonde hair. After a grueling cross-country flight, she blacks out cold. The brooding stranger who sat next to her grumping his way through the flight catches Elle as she falls. Neither expects the sweet chaos that happens next. August Marshall is stonehearted, insanely rich, and a master of corporate cleanups with major baggage of his own. The last man alive who needs a media frenzy after his airport heroics steal headlines. But August has a plan—ask Elle to marry him so their trouble disappears.

Mit einer Begrüßung hat er sich gar nicht erst aufgehalten. Schon als dieser scharfe, heiße Fremde behauptete, wir wären verlobt, wurde mir schwindlig. Dann hat er den Tyrannen in die Flucht geschlagen, der uns auf den Fersen war, und mich für die Nacht zu sich nach Hause geschleppt. Der helle Wahnsinn, oder? Falsch gedacht.Wenn du obdachlos und auf der Flucht bist und deinen kranken Vater in einem Truck transportierst, der so alt ist, dass er schon auf der Arche Noah gestanden haben muss, schluckst du deinen Stolz hinunter.