Showing results for "Harlow" in Romantic Comedy

Yes, I’m a single dad who needs a nanny for the summer. But hiring the stranded runaway bride who shows up on my doorstep in a wedding gown with no references, no skills, and no experience? No one is that desperate.

I didn’t mean to see him naked - it was an accident. It had to be, right? Because Noah McCormick and I have never been anything more than friends. Until I walked in on him getting out of the shower and saw his hard, muscular body totally bare and dripping wet. At that moment I never wanted to mess with anything so badly in my entire life. He’s made it clear he’s not interested in romance. Which is fine with me because I’ve got a plane ticket back to my real life at the end of the week. It’s all in fun...or is it?

Rule number one of bro-code: exes, sisters and of course, wives are off-limits. Don't think about them and sure as hell don't kiss them. But what if your best friend dies, and suddenly you want the woman who has always been his? Four years ago my childhood friend lost his life serving our country, and Astrid and her kids became my responsibility. But before I knew it, something started to shift between us. Her smile started to make my stomach twist. Our conversations gave me something to look forward to.

Xander Buckley might be hotter than a stolen blow torch, and I get that he’s a former Navy SEAL and all, but the man gives new meaning to the words overbearing, overprotective, bossy alpha male. I can’t even post a photo on social media without him warning me it’s not safe or take a morning jog without him following behind. But he’s made it clear that what he says goes, and if I don’t like it, I can kiss my vacation goodbye. Instead, I end up kissing him.

Carla hat es geschafft: ein erfolgreicher Podcast, lukrative Buchdeals und mehr Follower, als sie zählen kann. Während sie der Frage nachgeht, ob sie ihr Leben so weiterführen möchte, kommt die Anfrage, wie gerufen, ob Carla ihrer Tante im Café in Cornwall aushelfen könnte. Ein Tapetenwechsel, frische Luft, neue Inspiration – was soll schon schiefgehen? Doch Carla reist nicht nur mit neuem Elan an, sondern auch mit einem Koffer voller alter Probleme. Und dann ist da noch Josh. Fotograf. Charmant und unverschämt attraktiv. Leider ist er außerdem viel zu gut darin, Carla den Kopf zu verdrehen.

He’s my brother’s best friend, the hot single dad next door. And one accidental sext later, my massive crush on him is no longer a secret. It’s my own damn fault. I’m 30 years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a (reasonably) responsible adult. I should know better than to get tipsy and draft a fake text listing all the dirty things I wish Officer Cole Mitchell would do to me. I wasn’t supposed to hit send. And he wasn’t supposed to see it.

Five small town sisters. Five heart-stopping heroes. Five captivating stories that will make you smile, swoon, and fall in love with romance again!

In my defense, I thought the plane was going to crash. Otherwise, I never would have blurted out those embarrassing things to a perfect stranger. Did I mention he turned out to be a scorching hot superstar of professional hockey? But wait, there’s more. When the plane lands safely, I rush off, praying I’ll never have to face him again. My luck holds out for less than twenty-four hours, when I realize he’s a groomsman at the wedding I’m attending.

My new neighbor is a firefighter - and a scorching-hot single dad - but I swear I didn’t set off that smoke alarm on purpose. (And I was beyond mortified when he rushed in and saw me naked.) Nothing happened, of course - because I, Winnie MacAllister, romance junkie and owner of a constantly broken heart, have sworn off men for one solid year. Even protective men with chiseled jaws, bulging biceps, and deep brown eyes that make my breath come faster.

Quand nous avions onze ans, Oliver Ford Pemberton m'a défiée de sauter du toit d'une grange. Il disait qu'on ne pouvait pas se casser une jambe en sautant de 3,5 mètres. Il mentait. (On peut aussi se casser une clavicule, ce qui, selon moi, était bien fait pour lui.) J'aimerais pouvoir dire que c'était le dernier défi que j'ai relevé de sa part, le dernier pari que j'ai fait avec lui, la dernière fois que j'ai fait confiance à Oliver Ford Pemberton. Mais ce n'était pas le cas. Parce qu'il a eu le culot de devenir beau, charmant et sexy. 

A woman in the British Horticultural Society! The very idea horrifies everyone, including ardent horticulturalist Lavinia Harlow, whose own name has been put forth for membership by the provoking Marquess of Huntly. He does it as a joke, of course, to get back at her for an imagined slight - well, to be fair, she had insulted his writing -and Vinnie, older sister to the infamous Harlow Hoyden, is far too sensible to rise to his ridiculous challenge. Determined to head off further scandal, Vinnie dashes off a polite note refusing the honor - which she has every intention of sending.

Only in the movies does the Hollywood heartthrob fall for the small town diner waitress. So when Dashiel Buckley returns to Cherry Tree Harbor for a wedding, I’m determined not to let my massive crush on my best friend’s older brother hijack my good sense.

Getting hitched is the only way I can inherit Snowberry Lodge, and I’ll do anything to spare my childhood home from the wrecking ball–even wear Devlin Buckley’s ring on my finger. Not that I’ll enjoy it. Sure, he’s charming and handsome, and that no-last-names one night stand we shared ended with a fantastically big bang (I saw stars I hadn’t seen in six months, if you catch my drift). But I’ll never trust him–he was working for the company trying to bulldoze my life. Right up until the day he knocked on my door with an offer I couldn’t refuse.

I didn't mean to say I was engaged to a hot billionaire–it just slipped out. In my defense, I'd had a really bad haircut, a really strong drink, and I was trying to save face in front of the Mean Girl at my high school reunion. Lucky for me, I happen to know a hot billionaire. Hutton French and I have been friends forever, and even though big social gatherings are not his thing, I called him from the coat closet and begged him for a favor–show up and play my fake fiancé for the night.

Just friends. That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been. Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family’s ranch. Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were 17. And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis? He makes a girl sweat just looking at him...and I look. A lot. But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father.

When Blair Beaufort literally crashes into Bellamy Creek wearing a ball gown and a tiara, I should have towed her car, said goodnight, and sent her packing. I’m a mechanic, not a hotel manager. I've got enough on my plate trying to keep my shop from going under, my overbearing mother off my back, and my baseball team in contention for the league championship. I don’t have time for a former debutante with zero street smarts and a cash flow problem, even if she is crazy beautiful. But I know better than to think it can last. She wants a fairy tale, and I’m no prince.

Back then, I had it all. After tanking my career - during the World Series, no less - the last thing I want to do is return to my hometown, where every jerk in a ball cap has an opinion about what went wrong with my arm. Then I run into April Sawyer. I can still make her laugh, she can still take me down a notch, and when the chemistry between us explodes, it’s even hotter this time around - and I don’t want it to end. But just when I think I’m ready to let go of the past and get back in the game, life throws me a curveball I never saw coming.

When we were 11, Oliver Ford Pemberton dared me to jump off a barn roof. He said you couldn’t break a leg from a 12-foot jump. He lied. (You can also break a collarbone, which served him right as far as I was concerned.) I wish I could say it was the last dare I ever took from him, the last bet I ever made with him, the last time I ever trusted Oliver Ford Pemberton. But it wasn’t. Because he had the nerve to grow up gorgeous, charming, and sexy. And as we got older, the dares only got dirtier - and the betting stakes higher - until finally, he left me in pieces.

Theo MacLeod wasn't supposed to be the one. Tall, dark and handsome suits me just fine, but the cocky grin, know-it-all attitude, and mammoth ego? No thanks. I only hired him so I wouldn't have to sit at the singles table again. It was just pretend. He wasn't supposed to kiss me. My heart wasn't supposed to pound. We weren't supposed to spend the night together - the hottest night of my life.

When a psychic tells Natalie Nixon her life is about to be upended by a mysterious stranger, she laughs it off. After all, she has everything she's ever wanted - a successful bakery, the perfect boyfriend, and the keys to her dream house. Who could possibly make her want to throw all that away?