Showing results by author "Penelope" in All Categories

Emily wasn’t in search for anyone particular but allowed herself to be more receptive in the world to receive both love and intimacy. She knows now that she deserves to be happy in every way. She accidentally finds someone that fulfills her in meaningful ways and savors in those emotions that are heightened and awakened. Her exploration to fulfill that missing part of her that has awakened is personified in her adventures with this man she meets by accident that exemplifies all her desires.

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.

It all started with a bet. When my young son inherited half of his great grandfather’s historic inn, I decided to move us both to the place where I grew up. Notice I said half of the Inn. The other half now belonged to Levi Miller, the famous quarterback who had other ideas about what we should do with the property. We won’t mention that I accidentally injured him during our first meeting, causing him to get eight stitches. You could say we got off on the wrong foot. We bickered a lot as we both moved into the property while we figured things out.

Hawken Trent. So polite. So sweet. Such an upstanding young man. A virgin, too, I hear. He never gets naughty with a girl. Probably because Jesus told him not to. And now here he is, trying to be the hero by protecting another girl from me. He calls me a bully. Irrational. Unreasonable. A criminal. He can call me anything he wants, I’ve heard worse. And he can try to stand between me and my money, but he’s never had to fight for food. That rich, clean, school boy doesn’t have what it takes

We're not free to give into this. She's 19, and I'm 38. And I'm her boyfriend's father. Unfortunately, they both just moved into my house.

I’d never forgotten him - a man I’d yet to meet. Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break. Until one day, it did. Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one - one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing. Griffin forgave me, and we were able to rekindle our childhood connection.

Tiernan de Haas doesn’t care about anything anymore. The only child of a film producer and his starlet wife, she’s grown up with wealth and privilege but not love or guidance. And when they suddenly pass away, she knows she should be devastated. But has anything really changed? She’s always been alone, hasn’t she? Jake Van der Berg, her father’s stepbrother and her only living relative, assumes guardianship of Tiernan who is still two months shy of 18. She's sent to live with him and his two sons, Noah and Kaleb, in the mountains of Colorado.

A Tiernan de Haas ya no le importa nada ni nadie. Cuando sus padres fallecen de repente, sabe que debería estar devastada. Pero ¿ha cambiado algo realmente? Al fin y al cabo, siempre ha estado sola. Jake Van der Berg, el hermanastro de su padre y su único pariente vivo, asume la tutela de Tiernan, a quien todavía le faltan dos meses para cumplir los dieciocho años.

The last thing Dorian Vanderbilt expected was to find me painting in my crop top when he returned to the mansion he hadn’t inhabited in years. He was understandably surprised I’d turned his living room into an art space. Life is certainly full of surprises, though, but not always in a good way. I learned that lesson when my aunt and the billionaire she married died unexpectedly while traveling. I’d been living with them, and just like that, my life was turned on its axis.

When the board of directors of my company mandated that I go to a wellness facility in small-town Maine to recharge, that shouldn’t have included using a ladder to sneak out of the bedroom window at night and going to the local bar. But Brock Hawkins was so much more than just the hot bar owner. He owned half the town, built log cabins with his bare hands, and was apparently the most eligible man in all of Meadowbrook.

I never minded being locked up. I learned a long time ago that being treated like an animal gives you permission to act like one. Their only mistake is believing anything I do is an accident. I can sit in this house with no internet, television, liquor, or girls, but I'll come out of here with something far more frightening to my enemies. A plan. I just didn't expect one of my enemies to come to me. I can smell her hiding in the house. She's here. Blackchurch houses five prisoners. I'm only one of her problems.

When I was little, I was obsessed with fairytales. My dad told me the stories of the stars and white knights who rescue princesses. I’d wear a silver plastic crown and stare at the sky, waiting for the day my knight in shining armor would come. Then my dad died, my crown broke, and my mom shipped my sister and me off to boarding school. And then I met them. My knights. Only they’re nothing like the fairytales I grew up on. They’re wrapped in sin and shrouded in darkness. Bossy, protective, alphaholes. And heirs to the Italian mafia.

How to kick off a great summer in the Hamptons: Snag a gorgeous rental on the beach. Check. Get a job at a trendy summer haunt. Check. How to screw up a great summer in the Hamptons: Fall for the one guy with a dark leather jacket, scruff on his face, and intense eyes that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the tony-looking crowd. A guy you can’t have when you’ll be leaving at the end of the season. Check. Check. Check.

I drowned to death. I held my breath as long as I could, but then my lungs sucked in water hoping it was air, and it was a painful and brutal ending, an internal drowning, my heart beating so hard desperate for oxygen...until it just stopped. I could never forget it…even if I wanted to. Bastien assumes our relationship is over. That I'll run for the hills and wash my hands clean of the most dangerous man in Paris. But I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. I ran before, but not anymore. I can tell it means the world to him.

I'm working off my buttons. But I'm also giving them away. The more I fall for Crow, the more I want him to do the things that I want. Dinners, dates, and evenings at the beach. Everything comes at a price, and quickly the hoard of buttons I worked hard to earn are depleted. Will this go back and forth forever? Or will someone run out of their buttons first?

Finding a good roommate through a classified ad isn’t as easy as it sounds. I was starting to lose hope. Until a knock at my door came, and God answered my prayers. Except...uh...wrong prayer, God. I’d definitely requested the big guy find me a drop-dead gorgeous man on more than one occasion...just not as my roommate. Declan Tate talked me into interviewing him anyway. While he was amusing and charismatic, I wouldn’t have been comfortable living with a man, so I regretfully declined. Then, cupcakes showed up at my door.

No one but me knew why I was actually in the California desert that day. Nestled deep within the desolate, rocky area was a recording studio. When a door suddenly opened, a man mistook me for someone he was supposed to be interviewing for a job. The next thing I knew, I was whisked inside. The position? An assistant on the upcoming tour for one of America’s most famous rock bands. Pretty exciting opportunity for a twenty-two-year-old, just out of college. Not surprisingly, I bombed the interview.

Rule number one for dating your best friend’s sister: Don’t. Just don’t do it. Especially when your best friend is dead and the last thing he made you promise him was that you’d keep an eye on his little sister, but not too good of an eye.

Two years of bitter loneliness have passed. The woman I love is now the woman I hate. I lose myself in beautiful women every night and tell myself that fortune reading was nothing but a scam. But then her mother asks me to marry her. I say yes. Now this woman will be mine forever. Maybe the prophecy really is true. I’m committing to a woman that will never love me in return. But it was better to be her husband than allow someone else to take my place. It was better to conquer her body every night than be lonely with someone else. Much better.

I’m falling for the father of the baby I’m carrying. The problem is: it’s not my baby. And the broody widower is not looking for a long-term partner. As a surrogate, the deal was that I’d only be in England long enough to give birth. At first, the man seemed as pretentious as his name: Sigmund Benedictus. He and I butted heads. Sig challenged my intentions, accused me of just wanting to do this for the money. Gradually, he learned to trust me.