Showing results by author "Emma Hart" in All Categories

When your flatmate is the hottest new party planner in the country, three things are bound to happen: 1. You’ll have to take a work call for her while you’re in your underwear. 2. You’ll have to fill in for her after an emergency...and pretend to be her. 3. You will royally mess it up...until a hot future duke steps in to save your bum. Yes, yes, that all sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Until you consider the party being planned is for the Dowager Duchess of Devon’s 80th birthday, and the current duchess is the ultimate type A personality.

My name is Evangeline Astley, and the only thing you need to know about me is that I never imagined this was how my life would go. I was supposed to devote all my time to painting gorgeous things to eventually open my own art gallery. Instead, I spent it all trying to sell my art to save my parents’ hotel.

My name is Adelaide Astley, and if there was anything remotely exciting about me to tell you, I would. Sure, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, and my mother bucked family tradition to marry “below” her and open a hotel, but I’m nothing but an aspiring author with a Tudor era obsession. Oh, and I’m spending the summer tutoring the daughter of the current Duke of Worcester. Alexander Winthrop-Bentley is so not my type, but hours of chess games and arguments over Tudor dynasties mean we’re thrown together more often than we should be.

My name is Lady Gabriella Hastings, and there are three things you need to know about me. One, my idiot brother will inherit the estate I’ve adored my entire life. Two, my father wants me to marry an idiot who has an estate like this. Three, my aunt’s goats keep escaping and terrorizing the public. Oh, and I have a huge crush on the gardener. But I have absolutely no time to sort out my own love life - because I’m too busy moonlighting as an online agony aunt to fix everyone else’s problems. 

As the last woman standing, I, Piper Carter, am officially a loner. Apparently, that means it’s time for me to get out there and find myself a man. My protestations that I have no time for it falls on deaf ears, and the next thing I know, I’m on a blind date with someone my best friends assure me will be perfect for me. Maverick Donovan, a guy I, uh, know very, very well.

After four years living the single life, it’s decided that I, London Stuart, am back on the market. I’m not even mad when my cousins and best friends put my name down for the speed-dating sessions. In fact, I’m actually a little excited about it. But then one of my dates turns out to be my six-year-old son’s irresistibly sexy soccer coach - his irresistibly sexy British soccer coach.

Let it be known that I, Saylor Green, am wholeheartedly against blind dating. I think it’s superficial, unnecessary, and designed wholly to force people into relationships they aren’t ready for. So when Dylan Parker takes the seat across from me, I’m ready to dismiss him at one glance. The problem? He’s hot and funny and sweet and the exact kind of guy I read about in the romance novels I sell like hotcakes in my bookstore.

Let it be known that I, Holley Stuart, do not give a single rat's behind about pro baseball's star pitcher Sebastian Stone. I definitely don't care that he's standing in my bookstore. Nor do I care that he seems to have forgotten about the last time we saw each other: senior prom, when he both humiliated me and broke my heart, albeit unknowingly. Now, he needs a date to his sister's wedding. Don't ask me how I ended up being it - I have no idea. But that's the least of my problems. His grandfather is adamant we're dating, and Seb isn't in a hurry to convince him otherwise.

What I wanted for my birthday: Books. What I got for my birthday: my brother’s best friend playing matchmaker. Let it be known that I am 100 percent against being set up with somebody. And I’m 1,000 percent sure that Josh Carter's not the man to find me a boyfriend. I mean, if I’m so great, why isn’t he the one dating me? (For the record, I don’t know the answer. That’s just what the guy on the internet asked.) I’ll humor him. If I go on his little dates, he’ll teach my bookish, introverted self how not to be totally, completely, utterly, unforgivably awkward.