Fixed on You

When I met Donovan Kincaid, I knew he was rich. I didn’t know he was filthy. Truth be told, I was only trying to get his best friend to notice me. I knew poor scholarship girls like me didn't stand a chance against guys like Weston King and Donovan Kincaid, but I was in love with his world, their world, of parties and sex and power. I knew what I wanted - I knew who I wanted - until one night, their world tried to bite me back and Donovan saved me. He saved me, and then Weston finally noticed me, and I finally learned what it was to be in their world.

Books talk about sparks flying. F--k that shit. With her, it was like emergency flares mixed with jet fuel. Or maybe just straight up napalm. Only one problem: She wouldn't tell me her name or her number when she disappeared from the hotel room after the hottest f--king night of my life. Now I've had a taste of unicorn pussy - the sweetest, rarest of all pussy - and I need it again. So what's an asshole to do? I took this problem to the street, a missed connection gone viral. And when I find her? I'm keeping her.

It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. Something blue. I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old.” Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true. The name embossed on the blue stationery: Reed Eastwood, obviously the most romantic man who ever lived. I also discovered he’s the most gorgeous. If only my true-love fantasies had stopped there.

One look at Jericho Forge, and I knew the rumors were true. He was a predator, and he had set his sights on me. I knew better than to bet more than I could afford to lose that night. I knew better than to bet myself. But desperation leads to bad decisions, and I thought there was no way I could lose. I was wrong. Now I have no choice but to make a deal with the devil....

Jackson "The Beast" Boudreaux is rich, gorgeous, and unbelievably rude to the staff at Chef Bianca Hardwick's New Orleans restaurant. Bianca would sooner douse herself in hot sauce than cook for Jackson again, but when he asks her to cater his fundraiser, Bianca can't refuse, knowing the cash will help pay her mother's medical bills. Then Jackson makes another outrageous request: Marry me. The unconventional offer includes an enormous sum - money Bianca desperately needs, even if it does come with a contract - and a stunning ring.

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. 

My name is Greer Karas, and I should never be allowed near another bottle of booze again. Because when I drink, my friend and I do stupid things. Like take a page out of my older brother Creighton's playbook and post something completely asinine on the Internet. Waking up with a giant hangover to find my humiliating personal ad has gone viral is not my finest moment.

As a chief stewardess on luxury superyachts, I massage egos, pamper the spoiled, and cater to the most outlandish desires of the rich and famous. I've never had a guest want something I can't give them. Until British businessman Hayden Wolf comes aboard - all sexy swagger and mysterious requests. But guests are strictly off limits and I've never broken a rule. Not even bent one. My family are depending on me and I can't lose my job. Only problem is Hayden Wolf is looking at me like I just changed his life. And he's touching me like he's about to change mine.

Everyone in Nashville knows Nathan Dumont. Four years ago, his fiancée disappeared. Last night, he proposed to me. I'd wanted to escape my life, the seedy strip club, and the mountain of bills. I had seized the opportunity to live in a mansion, fill my days with country clubs and caviar, my nights with romance and sex. Maybe I should have done my homework first.

A perfect storm led me to this place. Ghosted by my fiance, I was suddenly broke, heartbroken and facing eviction. Enter Mason Leo, the six feet and two inches of pure muscle and arrogance I've hated with a passion since the day we met. The man is cocky, womanizing, and ruinously gorgeous. Worse than that, he's my ex's brother. And for the next two weeks, he gets to do with me as he pleases. I'll explain. With both our exes - wait for it - set to marry each other in St. Lucia, I've agreed to let Mason pay my debts so long as I play his date.

The first time you meet someone, you make eye contact. You smile, say hello. Should be simple, if you're anyone but me. The first time I met Dylan Reed, I found myself making eye contact with a different part of his body. You see, I'm very good at being shy, not to mention extremely well-versed in rambling nonsense and, unfortunately, rather highly skilled at making a fool of myself in front of a guy I'm attracted to. At the time, I knew nothing about him and thought none of what I said would matter since I'd never speak to him again. Turns out, I was very wrong.

The first time I met Chase Parker, I didn't exactly make a good impression. I was hiding in the bathroom hallway of a restaurant, leaving a message for my best friend to save me from my awful date. He overheard and told me I was a bitch, then proceeded to offer me some dating advice. So I told him to mind his own damn business and went back to my miserable date. I couldn't help but sneak hidden glances at the condescending jerk on the other side of the room. Of course, he caught me on more than one occasion, and winked.

I didn’t notice her before... but now I do. Once I focus on her, I can’t take my eyes from my newest obsession. I need to know everything about her. Her past. Her present. The way she takes her coffee. Exactly how she smells after a spritz of perfume in the mornings. I notice the organized way she arranges her clothes in her closet. How she visits the same market each Saturday. The sounds of her breathing as I lie beneath her bed in silence. Violet is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

The first time I met Caine West was in a bar. He noticed me looking his way and mistakenly read my scowling as checking him out. When he attempted to talk to me, I set him straight -- telling him what I thought of his lying, cheating, egomaniacal ass. You see, the gorgeous jerk had wined and dined my best friend-smooth talking her into his bed, all along failing to mention that he was married. He deserved every bit of my tongue-lashing and more for what he'd done.

New Orleans belongs to me. You don't know my name, but I control everything you see - and all the things you don't. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met. I didn't need to loan money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt. She doesn't know she caught my attention. She should've been more careful. I'm going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her. It's time to collect what I'm owed.