Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer. After that night, we became friends. He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff. But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer. Until one night we crossed the line.  

Skye is my best friend. I trust her with my life. So, when she asks me to play her boyfriend, I say, "Hell, no!" Love screws everything up. And I’m not about to lose the only person who gets me. But Skye is determined. She’s bringing a fake boyfriend to her cousin’s wedding, with or without me. No way am I letting some other guy hold her, touch her, kiss her. It has to be me. It’s strange, smiling like I’m madly in love. 

Mr. Santillian, Despite the fact I'm currently living out of your guest room and sleeping with you most nights, I am writing to announce my resignation, effective two weeks from today. In other words, I'll locate someone who is both obscenely overqualified and willing to devote their days to the handful of tasks you are able to wrench from your perfectionist, micromanaging grip.

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.

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.

She needs this opportunity. He needs her groaning his name. Lizzy Wilder is staying in New York City, whatever it takes. Her only hope is a programming internship at hot tech startup Odyssey. It's a perfect gig...until she walks into her boss's office and sees the man who shared her bed three months ago. Nick Marlowe is aloof, demanding, and sexy as sin. He's also devoted to following a strict set of rules. His rules. Work and life stay separate. Always. Yes, he craves the feisty brunette. He shudders every time she calls him sir. He daydreams about tying her to his bed.

Eve Miller is out of options. Between rent, and her sister's medical debts, she's drowning. She needs money, now, and she only has one card left to play. Her virginity. Ian Hunt has specific tastes. The feisty student is perfect. He has to have her. His offer is simple. Six figures. Thirty days. Him introducing her to every kind of pleasure. The British businessman is richer than sin and hotter than hell. He can have any woman he wants. Why her? And why is she desperate to fulfill his every desire?

Dear Mr. Vega: I felt it necessary to follow up on today’s meeting, since we weren’t able to speak candidly in front of your son. I was shocked to discover that you are Ryder’s dad. I think it would be best if we just pretend that we met in person for the first time today. Your son is a very bright (flirtatious and talkative) student and since his education is a top priority for both of us, I hope I can count on you to respectfully refrain from grinning at me, using that sexy tone of voice, and undressing me with your annoyingly beautiful brown eyes....

Leighton is my best friend. My subordinate. My girlfriend. That's the story we're selling. To our co-workers. To our friends. To everyone who's anticipating the breakdown of the year at my ex's wedding. It's a terrible idea. Then Leighton slides her hands into my hair and presses her berry lips to mine. And all that wrong fades to right. I stop pretending. I forget the woman who broke my heart. I forget our rules. I forget I'll be lost without her. I kiss her back like I'll never get enough. I won't. But I can't risk losing my best friend. Even if she's the woman who might finally unlock my heart.

Richard Ramsey is the guitarist for the world’s hottest new band. Gifted. Charismatic. Hot as sin. Lend your ear, and he’ll steal your heart. Nah, you can’t have his, considering he left it in his hometown years ago. He knows better than going back. But it’s his younger sister’s wedding, and there’s no way he can say no to that. He should have known she would be there, invading his senses and making him thirst and hunger for what he wants most. 

When the invitation arrived, it detailed the rules of the masquerade - no names, no identities. I set one more - find a most wicked man for one night. The kind who'll bring me deliciously naughty pleasure in dark corners. But as the clock ticks to midnight, he finds me, whisks me away to a secret alcove, and delivers all that dirty bliss and then some. We make arrangements for another secret rendezvous before I rush out of the ball. But fate has other plans, since I see my most wicked man the next morning. 

Losing It is a is a stand-alone first time romance with the perfect mix of heat, humor, and emotion. Find out why listeners say "no one writes broken bad boys like Crystal Kaswell".

I got her fired. Okay, so I’d had a bad day and took it out on a bystander in a pizza shop. But there’s nothing innocent about Ally Morales. She proves that her first day of her new job in my office, after being hired by my mother. So, maybe, her colorful, annoying, inexplicably alluring personality brightens up the magazine’s offices that have felt like a prison for the past year. Maybe, I like that she argues with me in front of the editorial staff. And maybe, my after-hours fantasies are haunted by those brown eyes and that sharp tongue.

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own. 

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.