Showing results by author "Pippa Grant" in All Categories

There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t date Fletcher Huxley. He’s a growly-faced, stubborn-streaked, international rugby legend trying to revive his flailing career in the US after being canned by his team overseas. While he might have the good kind of thunder thighs, intriguing tattoos, and a booty of steel, he also holds the top position on my very short nemesis list thanks to what happened the first time we met.

Welcome to Bliss, where everyone finds a happily-ever-after. Blissed: A single mother and a love-shy widower reluctantly unite to save Bliss’s annual wedding festival. Matched: An out-of-place divorce lawyer is accidentally reunited with her first love. Smittened: An ice cream shop owner and a...

If people have polar opposites, Luca Rossi is mine. His butt is in the baseball hall of fame. Mine's comfortably seated in the hall of lame. When he's not snagging fly balls out in center field, he's modeling in shampoo commercials. I once jammed my own finger while stirring cookie dough, and sometimes I forget shampoo is a thing. He's a total cynic when it comes to love. I make a living writing love stories. But after my latest broken engagement (no, I don't want to talk about how many times that's happened), it's clear he's exactly the man I need.

I should’ve worn underwear that day. I’d have far less hate mail in my inbox. I’d also still have a job. But I didn’t wear underwear. And I had a wardrobe malfunction on a livestream. So now I’m the proud owner of the internet’s most famous… you know. The good news? I’ve been...

You’d think nearly dying trying to get out of a too-tight gown in a dressing room and being saved by a strong, competent man was a good thing. Not so much, though, when that strong, competent man is your ex. Your secret ex. And the reason you need a gown is because you’re part of a charity auction. The charity auction where he gets into a bidding war to win you. And now, because you’re one of few female coaches in professional baseball, and he’s the captain of the local professional hockey team, and he paid a ridiculous sum of money for you…

He has the muscles of Adonis, an ego bigger than the sun, and a very clear desire to get back in my pants. Which would be fantastic if he weren't a SEAL and I wasn't a criminal. Although, I prefer the term avenger. I'm a hacktivist, cleaning up the cesspool of cyberspace one scam artist and troll at a time, and I sometimes bend a few rules to get justice done. He's a military man with abs of glory, sworn to uphold the letter of the law no matter its shortcomings. And if he'd known who - or what - I was, I doubt he would've banged me at my best friend's wedding reception.

Faking an engagement to my secret high school crush was not on my to-do list when I landed for a short visit home. But when Amanda Anderson announces that she’s my fiancée, I take a leap and play along with the farce. Why? Because the Capulets and Montagues have nothing on the Andersons and Silvers of Tinsel, Michigan. In the name of bringing peace to our Christmas-themed hometown and ourselves, we’ll play the part of Romeo and Juliet.

If the Upper East Side had an evil twin, it would be Tickled Pink, Wisconsin. This run-down, backwoods town isn’t worthy of the footprint of my Louboutins, never mind all of me. But when my grandmother has a near-death experience and realizes we Lightlys can’t buy our way into heaven, she relocates the family to Tickled Pink to work on improving our souls. And that’s how I trade my heiress existence for gigantic bugs, dishwater coffee, and a cranky single dad named Teague Miller.

From the author Pippa Grant, the second book in her newest series Accidentally Infamous. Blurb coming soon...

She's newly single and determined to never fall for a military man again. He's a sexy officer who doesn't believe in love. And they think they can handle a no-strings relationship. Bless their hearts. She’s no damsel in distress Anna Martin's newly single and determined to never fall for a...

Large and in charge? Honey, I'm the biggest, baddest, mother pucking-est machine to ever own the ice. I shoot. I score. In and out of the rink. I don't come early, but I come often, if you know what I mean. And I always leave the ladies wanting more. Until that chick last night. I'm no one-thrust wonder, and you're damn right I'm going to prove to her I can do better. But every time I think I'm finally on my way back into her pants, she one-ups and out-balls me. I should cut my losses, lick my wounds, and walk away. But Zeus Berger doesn't walk away from anything.

Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend. Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet. Target: Grady Rock. Master baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends. Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me.

Anything your tongue desires, I can bake it. Scones? Child's play. Cupcakes? I'll frost them so good you won't know what hit you. Donuts? Please! You're talking to a master baker. But there's one egg I've never been able to crack. My best friend. Correction: my former best friend. She's the apple in my pie. The whip in my cream. The lemon in my meringue. The wish in my bone. She's the one who got away.

Never borrow pants from your brother. Especially if he’s a size smaller than you are, because all that pressure in the junk will short-circuit your brain. And you’ll lie to a woman in a club about your real name. Leave her unsatisfied after making out in a bathroom. Then find out that she’s the one thing standing in the way of your dreams. And she very much doesn’t like being lied to. Now I have to convince Lila Valentine - the woman I can’t stop thinking about, my biggest regret, and my new boss - that I’m what’s best for the baseball team she’s inherited.

When it comes to women, I know what they want. And all day long, I give it to them. Dark, broody, and sexy? You got it. Need to laugh? I'm your guy. Desperate for something to put you in the mood? You've come to the right place, kitten. Every morning when my library opens, there's a line around...

I, Tillie Jean Rock, am not in love with my brother’s teammate. Sure, he might have those biceps and that “I am the grouchiest of grouchy bears” smolder, and he might shovel snow off his driveway next door wearing nothing but boxer shorts and rubber boots, and he might be running a side business feeding all the stray goats in town, but studliness is only skin-deep.

Nick Murphy. Hockey god. My best friend’s big brother. My friend with mind-blowing benefits. The best thing to happen to my nether regions since my subscription to the toy of the month club. The man I’ve been secretly in love with for years. And a total ass. I am so done with him. Except there’s one small problem. Now that I’ve cut him off, his hockey game is in the toilet. He’s convinced I’m his good luck charm, and he wants me back. But only for his game.

I, Cooper Rock, baseball god, worshipper of women, hometown hero, beloved son and brother, and owner of a well-deserved ego, have always reached for the stars. Usually in baseball. In love? Nah. When you’ve played the field as much as I have and haven’t been bit by the bug, you’re immune. Or so I thought until she walked back into my life.

There are two kinds of women in the world - those I can bang, and those I can’t. My teammate’s sister? She’s a can’t. I moved in with her to protect her from a nasty ex, not to be the next guy in line. She’s the brains. I’m the brawn. She’s the fruit. I’m the sausage. She talks too much. I don’t talk at all, if I don’t have to. Should be easy to resist her.

If I had to pick a bride of convenience, my first choice would not be Peach Maloney. My 50th choice would not be Peach. Top spot on my list of occupational hazards? Yes. Royal pain in the crumpets? Yes. A bride of convenience? No. But I've unexpectedly gone from royal bodyguard to monarch, having inherited a crown that was stolen from my family long before my birth. The kicker? In order to take the throne, I must find a wife. Have I mentioned Peach would not have been my 100th choice? But I've no other options, and she needs a favor that my new position can fulfill quite nicely.