Finding Mr. Wrong

Hockey player Leo Trevi has spent the last six years trying to do two things: get over the girl who broke his heart, and succeed in the NHL. But on the first day he's called up to the newly franchised Brooklyn Bruisers, Leo gets checked on both sides, first by the team's coach - who has a long simmering grudge - and then by the Bruisers' sexy, icy publicist - his former girlfriend, Georgia Worthington. Saying goodbye to Leo was one of the hardest things Georgia ever had to do - and saying hello again isn't much easier.

When I first encountered Ford Donovan, I had no idea who he was...well, other than the obvious. Young, gorgeous, successful, smart. Did I mention young? If I did, it bears repeating. Ford Donovan was too young for me. Let’s back up to how it all started. My best friend decided I needed to start dating again. So, without my knowledge, she set up a profile for me on a popular dating site - one that invited men ages 21 to 27 to apply for a date.

Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning. I was late for the first day at my new job - a job I’d now have to compete for, even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons. She’d ticketed a long line of cars - except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine. Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine.

My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards. We met at a wedding. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction. I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me. We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.

I couldn't have scripted a more perfect night. For one fantastic evening, at a masquerade party in the heart of Manhattan, I'm not the millionaire everyone wants a piece of. Fine - multimillionaire. But who's counting all those commas? Not me, and not the most intriguing woman I've ever met. And that's why I'm eager to get to know her more, since my mystery woman seems to like me for me, rather than for my huge...bank account. Everything's coming up aces. Until the next day, when things get a little complicated. (Newsflash - a lot complicated.)

The last thing Vaughan Hewson expects to find when he returns to his childhood home is a brokenhearted bride in his shower, let alone the drama and chaos that come with her. Lydia Green doesn't know whether to scream or cry in a corner. Discovering the love of your life is having an affair on your wedding day is bad enough. Finding out it's with his best man is another thing altogether.

Nicholas Arthur Frederick Edward Pembrook, Crowned Prince of Wessco, aka His Royal Hotness, is wickedly charming, devastatingly handsome, and unabashedly arrogant - hard not to be when people are constantly bowing down to you. Then, one snowy night in Manhattan, the prince meets a dark-haired beauty who doesn't bow down. Instead she throws a pie in his face.

I'll say this about Christian - he made one hell of a first impression. When I first saw the strapping man, he was doing handstands naked on a dock along the canal. His crown jewels were far more entertaining than anything else I'd seen on the boat tour, so I did what any curious woman would do - I took his photo.  

Célian Laurent. Manhattan royalty. Notorious playboy. Heir to a media empire...and my new boss. I could have impressed him, if not for last month's unforgettable one-night stand. I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory - namely, his wallet. Now he's staring me down like I'm the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I'm supposed to take it. But the thing about being Judith "Jude" Humphry is I have nothing to lose. Brooklyn girl. Infamously quirky. Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch. 

I'm a lot of things - a screwup, a basket case, a flunky. But when I take a nanny job to be near my pregnant sister, I swear to myself I'll walk the straight and narrow, which means I cannot fall for my insanely hot boss. I don't want to be tempted by that rugged rancher. By his chiseled muscles or southern charm or the way he snuggles his kids at bedtime. Ethan Carter won't get the key to my heart, no matter how much I want him.