Risultati di "J.S. Cooper" in Tutte le categorie

Just because he's a gorgeous billionaire with sexy blue eyes doesn't mean I want anything to do with him… Jack Heathcliff is a storm of trouble in my life… My ex's older brother. The one who encouraged him to dump me. To tell a little secret. He was my first crush, but now he's my sworn...

Dear Grumpy Horrible Boss, You suck as a lawyer. I don't even know how you passed the bar. Or how you sleep at night taking clients like Jack Whittington. Just in case you didn't know, you can't fire me just because I have a part-time job working bachelor parties. What I do on the weekend is none of your business and not a part of my employment contract. If I want to go back to wearing coconut bikinis and popping out of cakes, I can. As soon as I get my big break as an actress, I will be leaving your employ. I am literally counting down the days.

I'm seeking a billionaire. I will also settle for a millionaire. Sorry, I'm not interested in any salesmen looking to sell me a time-share or a part of their animal balloon company (been there, done that). If interested, please respond before Monday morning so I don't have to go to work.

I just announced my engagement to a hot billionaire. Yes, you read that right. A billionaire. My family is ecstatic and already celebrating. Only they don't know the truth. My engagement is faker than my Chanel handbag. My fake fiancé, Jackson Pruitt, is paying me to pretend to be in love with him so he can inherit his family's company. How cliché! My parents are planning free trips to Fiji. I'm counting down the days to end this thing. They don't know he's the same man I had a one-night stand with. Or the man who was super annoyed when Lenny at the bodega gave me his number.

Dear Mr. Gallagher, I do not need this job. In fact, I will remind you that I'm doing you a favor. I am working for you only because I don't want you to inflict your grumpiness on my friends any longer. I am a strong, confident woman and know how to put men like you in their place. I won't succumb to your flirtations or your attempts to try and shock me. I am not impressed by your six-pack or your six-figure bank account. I suggest you realize that I am out of your league in so many ways, it's not even funny.

Dear Sir/Madam, I would like to nominate my jerkface of a boss, Kingston Chase, for the worst boss of the year award. I don't know if that's a category at your esteemed paper as yet, but if not, it should be. Yours Sincerely, Skye Redding.

Dear Remington Parker, You may think you're the handsome prince of the law firm and I'm your dutiful wench, but I'm not here to be your plaything. Yes, you're handsome-ish. Yes, you're a partner at the firm. Yes, I'm your ugly duckling assistant. But no, I'm not desperate, and I don't want you. I have no interest in being the nanny to your newly found kid when you want to go on dates. And I have even less interest in your offer to teach me the ways of the world. In fact, after my makeover, I'm pretty sure I'll have plenty of men wanting to help me discover the joys of companionship.

Gorgeous Sebastian Laurence walked into my life on a stormy Monday afternoon. The thunder and lightning that filled the room upon his entrance should have been a sign that all was not as it seemed. Within a day, he'd asked me out. Within two days, we were in Vegas. Like a fool, I thought this was the beginning of our perfect love story. On Friday, he told me he thought we were soulmates and that we should get married. The very next night the man carried me into our honeymoon suite with love in his eyes.

I'm Ava James, fall queen, pumpkin spice enthusiast, proud owner of Beachy Balls, Biscuits, and Books, and dating consultant extraordinaire (in my head). Right now, I'm juggling three goals: 1. Find a date for the Coconut Beach Fall Festival, so my grandma will stop playing matchmaker for the holiday season. 2. Save my bookstore-bakery from being snatched up by a corporate developer, who wants to turn it into another nondescript hotel. 3. Uncover the identity of my anonymous letter-writer—and maybe, just maybe, ride off into the autumn sunset (or at least a not-too-bumpy hayride) with them.

Trust me when I say you do not want to make the same mistake I did. His name is Colton. Colton Hart. He's my brother's best friend. My nemesis. The man who fired me after working for him for one hour. Now he's my latest mistake.