Falling For You Series

When Shelby gets called away from a party on a plumbing emergency, she wasn't expecting to come face to face with a clumsy naked Irish ex-soldier with his foot stuck in a toilet. What's more, the man's dealing with a parrot that cusses in Gaelic, a feral bird-nabbing Siamese cat, and his grandmother's falling-down old house. He's a handful ... but a blazing hot, redheaded, cinnamon-freckled, alabaster-skinned marble statue of a handful who kisses like the gods taught him how.   It doesn't take Shelby long to learn, however, that Killian Doyle is far from perfect. He's slunk away from the army in disgrace, hiding an unbearable guilty secret, and all he wants is to start life over. He thinks this time that Shelby can be the key. But then his past comes looking for him in the form of a curvy, raven-haired ex, bearing news that can end everything Shelby and Killian are trying to build.

After Raya catches a scrawny, straggly-haired kid spray-painting a parade of long-legged black spiders across her precious hand-painted mural, she discovers he's a serial mischief-maker. Dyeing the river blood red so the townspeople think the Apocalypse has come. Spraying cuss words into the lawn with weed killer.   Nobody would believe the sweet-faced, sad-eyed August is bad to the bone. There has to be another reason. And when Raya meets the boy's dad, she thinks she has a clue. Blond, blue-eyed, impeccably dressed and super rich, Christopher Kane is every inch the perfect guy, but he has no idea how to treat with the teenage son who came to live with him just months ago. Man and boy can't see eye to eye, and Raya thinks all this acting out is the poor motherless kid's way of getting his busy father's attention.   When Raya takes him on as an apprentice, all she wants to do is help ease his loneliness and give him a sense of direction. She didn't count on Christopher invading her life, her thoughts and her heart as well!

Jenessa's Secret Santa has a crush. That's the only explanation. Why else would he be sending her such naughty, lavish presents? A book of sexy poems that leaves her squirming in her seat. Scented body oil that glides along her skin like a lover's touch. Her favorite lipstick in a shade that makes it look like she's begging for a kiss.   Yep. Santa has her attention, all right.   Santa Baby is not who she expected. It's none other than Mitchell, the new head of maintenance. Tall, hot and hazel-eyed, he's not afraid to let her know he's interested. He also knows how to rock a pair of jeans! Jenessa's intrigued, and more than a little turned on. A short, passionate office fling with this dreamy-eyed single dad? Could be fun—but potentially fatal to her career. After all, she's a high-powered executive with an eye on the VP's chair, and he's … a glorified handyman. Opposites attract, but what would the office gossips say?

If Ruby Red didn't know better, she'd think she'd been cursed. She attracts dorks and weirdos like Pigpen from Peanuts attracts dirt. From ferret smugglers to men who con restaurants out of birthday cake, she's endured a streak of disastrous swipe-rights.   Even worse, her most catastrophic misadventures happen under the disdainful eye of the owner of Palmetto Plaza's popular Irish pub. Bar Dude thinks Ruby is a drama queen who can't stop dipping her toes into the shallow end of the dating pool. That makes her no better than the parade of weirdos who amble through her life. If there's one thing Ruby hates, it's being misjudged. Since she can't change his mind about her, it's best she just stays out of his way. Then one Sunday morning, Bar Dude turns up frantic, needing a favor.   She could say no, but granting him a boon and lording it over him forever after seems like much more fun. Right?

So I hired an "exotic dancer" for a baby shower. Just a little fun for us girls, okay? But when a silver Hummer skates up the driveway and this big, long-haired fireman stomps out, it's my body that starts heating up. It's an eventful night. I try to drown him (accidentally), kiss him (deliberately), and have to cut him out of his leather thong (long story). When my favorite male model gets run over by a Pamplona bull, I find myself in need of a stunning bit of man-candy to come with me to Nice, France, to model my designs. He's not crazy about the idea, because there's someone in Nice he'd like to avoid. Let's just say I talk him into it. But when he's on stage, will he remember he's a model, not a stripper, or will he start tossing my designs to a bunch of screaming women?