Showing results by author "Cassie-Ann L. Miller" in All Categories

From the first time I meet Leo Montgomery, I know I'm in trouble. His dark, heated gaze skittering down my body sets my skin on fire. A rare sighting of his elusive, heart-stopping smile and - dear lord - I think I just ovulated. But then, he hires me to babysit his adorable little troublemaker after school, and now, my maternal instincts are working overtime.

Charlie Hartley is the thing that addictions are made of. At least that's what I've heard from the parade of desperate women who've gone through his bedroom's revolving door. Brash and unapologetic, tattooed and insanely handsome. I'm sure there's a Charlie Addicts Anonymous meeting taking place somewhere in the great state of Illinois as we speak.

Ben Riggs says he loves me. He says he hasn't stopped thinking about me since he broke my heart and chased me out of town all those years ago. I say, liar liar pants on fire. And boy, do those bright yellow, flame-resistant fireman pants look good on him. I'm aching to feel those big, rough hands clenching on my hips and to collect on the illicit promises burning in his dark blue eyes. Self-control goes up in flames every time he flashes that arrogant smile. So I give in - because a woman has needs. (Am I right, ladies?) He can have my body, but my heart is off-limits.

"Come up to my room with me...." The invitation came in a deep, husky voice as I was sobbing into my floral arrangement and consuming all the alcohol during the lowest night of my life. I should have said no. It was wrong to accept the handsome soldier's offer. But I was hurting. I wanted those rough hands and those soft lips and that sculpted body on me. I was never supposed to see him again. But two years later, he's here - in Copper Heights - just as tall, rugged, and charming as the night we met.

I can't stand Clinton Alvarez. My life was meticulously organized, painstakingly structured, and impeccably sanitary...until he rolled into town with his bad manners, his short temper, and his cocky smirk. Now, he's opened up his grungy barbershop right next door to my pristine cupcake shop, bringing along his clientele of sketchy, leather-loving motorcycle guys with broken noses. He's infuriating. Having him around brings out the worst in me. All of a sudden, I'm acting on impulse.

I probably didn't make a great first impression. Rushing through his apartment door - practically naked aside from the plastic shower cap on my head - and charging for his bathroom as if my skin was on fire. What was I supposed to do? Wait around for a white knight to swoop through my bathroom window with a wrench and a toilet plunger to save me from my faulty plumbing situation? Insert eye roll here. Anyway, that's the story of how I met my new landlord.

It was a heat-of-the-moment agreement scribbled onto the back of a crinkled gas station receipt nine years ago. "If neither of us is married by age 30, we'll marry each other." Haha! So funny! Cash moved to a city 500 miles away, built his billion-dollar empire, and made a name for himself. Me? I stayed in our gossipy hometown, working a simple job and living a simple life. And we never discussed the marriage pact again. But I just turned the big three-oh, and Cash showed up at my door in the middle of a freaking rainstorm.

I'm Karli Brighton, reigning Queen of Epic Screw-Ups. With twelve med school rejection letters burning a hole in my back pocket, I'm back in my quirky hometown for the summer. Grumpy and shame-faced, I'm not exactly in the mood to make new friends. Having a wild one-night stand with the charming pretty boy I meet at a local bar to feel better about myself? Probably not the smartest idea. But I take comfort in knowing that I'll never see the gorgeous stranger again. Until he strolls into my family home one hour later.

I should have fired Eliza Jenkins the night she overstepped her qualifications in a high-profile client meeting. Or the time she called me stuffy, uptight, and grumpy to my face. But it's her luscious mouth, her chocolate eyes, and her voluptuous curves that really drive me crazy. So I send her packing, pink slip in hand. My company is better off without the mouthy firecracker anyway. At least, that's what I've been trying to believe. Except now, a multi-million dollar deal is on the line, and she's the only one who can help me save it. I've got a new assignment for Ms. Sassy. Be my fake wife.

My best friend's older brother. Melter of ovaries. Destroyer of panties. And suddenly...a single dad. Guys like Jasper—I bet you know the type. The chiseled arms. The wavy hair. The melt-your-brain-cells smile. Good thing I'm a smart girl—Honey Hill's former child prodigy, to be precise. I should know better than to fall for this playboy's charm. Here's the thing, though. The man is an expert at solving my problems, and he always knows how to make me laugh. And those hands... Those big, rough mechanic hands... Oh, damn. What's that I just said about resisting his charm? Never mind.

It was supposed to be harmless. One fake date with an off-limits football player I'd never date for real. Plot twist—Harry Westbrook is the exact opposite of harmless. My first mistake? Underestimating that boyish smile, those playful eyes, the charming words on those perfect lips. He claims to have a crush on me. But, as hot as he is, I'd bet he's scheduling booty calls like a dentist booking teeth cleanings. I'm Nadia Chester—in-house lawyer for the Paragons football team. Queen of logic and compartmentalizing. Resisting him should be easy.

I have no business getting involved with Felix Brighton. I've seen the way he moves through our small town. With his playful smiles, hypnotic eyes, and easygoing charm, women are all over him with every step he takes. Meanwhile, I'm just sweet, quiet Daphne Beaumont. Just his younger sister's best friend. Just the girl he's barely ever noticed. Until I somehow end up in more trouble than I can handle and Felix makes it his duty to swoop in and save the day.

When I charged up those courthouse steps to stop Sera's wedding, I didn't exactly have a plan. But there was no way I was letting my best friend's little sister marry some no-good tool who didn't deserve her. Let's just say things got out of control. Fast. Now, the wedding is off. And Sera is crushed. And I'm just trying to be a good friend. "Come stay at my place until you're back on your feet." "Have some tequila; it'll ease the pain." And "What're a few much-needed orgasms between friends?"

Once upon a time, Davis Westbrook was my small-town fairytale. We fell in love at 16. Married at 21. High school sweethearts destined for forever. Then, in one cruel moment, fate stormed in, knocked over our white picket fence, and stole our happy ever after. Davis and I moved on with separate lives. I run the local veterinary clinic. He is Honey Hill's hot-as-hell chief deputy sheriff. And we're nothing but cordial exes, politely keeping our distance around town.

When I came back to Sin Valley, the mission was simple—avoid the ex-girlfriend who broke my heart. At all costs. Too bad I just (accidentally) moved in next door to her. And her battery-operated boyfriend(s). Plural. Crap! No matter how hard I try to steer clear of Desiree Grant, fate keeps tossing us together. And, so far? It’s not going too well for me.