All the Standalone Romances Bundle

New to Park City, Lacey Porter isn’t looking for love, but when she comes face to face with hot firefighter Jake, she may change her mind.

Arwen Butler has no time for love, but when she joins a gym and hot firefighter Tyler becomes her personal trainer, she may have to rethink her priorities.

She needs money.

He needs a fake fiancé.

The perfect solution or the perfect mistake?

She’s a pop star. He’s her bodyguard.

Too bad she doesn’t want protecting.

When they’re forced together, sparks fly.

An actress with a dangerous stalker and the billionaire who wants to protect her.

Missing and presumed dead, when billionaire Nathan Hewitt is rescued from a deserted island a year after his yacht disappeared, everyone is thrilled. Except Chloe James.

He’s a billionaire posing as a chef.

She’s an elementary school teacher who hates liars.

He’s a billionaire used to being in charge.

She’s a woman who loathes being told what to do.

Gabriella Peters has crushed on Travis Haywood since she was 15. When they run into each other ten years later, sparks fly.

Will a relationship built on lies destroy them, or keep them safe from those who would do them harm?

A billionaire who wants to grant his mother’s dying wish and the only woman who can make it happen.

Melanie Hopkins has sworn off dating to focus on her job and her three-year-old daughter, but when a man from her past persists in pursuing her, will she take down the walls around her heart or stay lonely forever?

Hiding from her ex, Shay takes refuge in an unoccupied cabin. Too bad the owner, NFL quarterback Josh, thinks she’s a groupie.

When NFL star Brock runs into his childhood friend and former neighbor Ainsley, all grown up and drop-dead gorgeous, he wants her. Too bad she friend-zones him.

He’s an NFL all-star and single father. She’s his daughter’s nanny. Too bad acting on their mutual attraction will ignite a firestorm.

NFL all-star Jax is intrigued by young widow Autumn, but when she finally dips her toe in the dating pool, disturbing things start happening to her. Too bad the police won’t take the incidents seriously.

NFL star Greg Sinclair has always been head over heels for his wife. Too bad she doesn’t remember him or the danger she’s in. Good thing he’d die for her.

An NFL player, his fake girlfriend, and a family camping trip to Yellowstone National Park. What could go wrong?

Book 1 of 2 in the Over You romantic suspense series

When Jessica Stevens temporarily moves in with her elderly aunt to help care for her, she plans to use the time to heal from a recent break-up. But when her aunt decides to do some remodeling on the old house, Jessica is dismayed to discover that the contractor is her ex-fiancé, a man who dumped her several years before.

Helping distract her from her troubles are mysterious fifty-year-old letters she finds in her aunt's attic. The contents of the letters spur Jessica to do some digging, but as the truth of the past begins to be revealed, Jessica regrets ever finding the letters.

“Here’s one, Cait,” Amy said from the couch, holding up Cait’s phone as if Cait could see it from where she stood at the kitchen counter chopping carrots for their dinner. 

“Amy,” Cait said to her best friend and roommate, her tone slightly annoyed, “I told you. I can choose my dates myself.”

“Too late,” Amy said with a giggle. “I swiped right. Besides, he’s super hot.”

Wearing a bemused smile, Cait shook her head. If the man reached out to her, Cait could just ignore him. She didn’t know why she’d signed up on that dating app in the first place. Scratch that. Yes, she did. Because Amy had pressured her into it. “Put my phone down before you do something I’ll regret.”

Amy laughed, but at least she complied. “Thanks for making dinner tonight, Cait.”

“No problem. You’ve been working a lot of overtime, so I’m happy to step in.”

“I’ll clean up, of course,” Amy said.

“Yes, you will.” Though Cait got home earlier than Amy, she still had a lot of homework to review from her second grade class. She loved teaching those little seven and eight year olds, but it was also exhausting. Still, she was grateful to have a good job. Growing up, she’d seen her mother struggle to support her and her sister after their father had left when Cait had been a pre-teen. Ever since, Cait had made it a top priority to make sure she could support herself, and as long as she earned enough to meet her extremely modest needs, she was satisfied.

Amy got up from the couch and came into their tiny kitchen, then leaned against the counter. “At least all this overtime is giving me extra money.”

Cait nodded, wishing she could get paid overtime for all the extra hours she put in, but that’s not how teaching worked. Didn’t matter. She loved what she did and she was frugal. Though money had its place, it wasn’t the most important thing to her. No. The most important thing was doing what she loved and finding happiness among life’s challenges. 

She considered her challenges and knew the biggest one was her love life—or lack of a love life. Smiling, she shook her head as she put the carrots into a steamer and turned on the heat under the pot.

* * *

Luke Mills stretched his back as he stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows in his office, which overlooked downtown Los Angeles. He’d just finished an extremely important conference call, one that hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped it would. As founder and CEO of Mills International Holdings, a billion dollar company he’d built from the ground up, Luke was frequently under a tremendous amount of pressure. Pressure which made the muscles all over his body knot up in protest. To mitigate that, he made sure to spend at least an hour each day working out. It was amazing how much that physical exertion helped him reduce his stress. When those little endorphins flowed through his veins, he felt invincible. Too bad he wasn’t.

He shook his head. He would figure things out.

A knock sounded at the closed door of his office.

“Come in,” he called out as he turned around.

“How’d the call go?” Brad, the COO asked as he strode inside.

Luke sat behind his desk and Brad sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk.

“Not great,” Luke said, before giving him the particulars.

Brad frowned. “Not to pile bad news on top of bad news, but TZK is talking about pulling out of the deal.”

Luke frowned deeply. Just what he needed. One more problem to deal with. Well, that’s what he did. Like a fireman, he was always putting out fires. Trouble was, if he didn’t extinguish his fires quickly they could turn into conflagrations that could burn his business severely.

They discussed how they could handle the issue, then Luke thanked Brad and Brad left, closing the door behind him.

Trying not to feel overwhelmed by all that he had on his plate, Luke clenched his jaw, then picked up his phone. He needed to get out of his head for a minute and he knew the perfect way to do it.

He opened the dating app he’d joined on a whim the night before. Okay, maybe it hadn’t been a complete whim. He’d been thinking about it for a couple of weeks. Now, as he pulled up his profile, he softly chuckled as he read the fiction he’d created.

Name: Luke

Occupation: Chef

Interests and Activities: Bowling, biking, hiking, camping, fishing, really anything outdoors. 

Tired of dating women who seemed to be interested in him only for his bank account, Luke had decided to create a fake profile. Well, mostly fake. The picture he’d posted was really him, and he really did enjoy those things he’d listed as a hobby—although he rarely had time to do any of them. Picturing himself as a chef made him smirk. Yes, he enjoyed cooking, but he couldn’t imagine doing it full time. Then again, maybe that would be an awesome job. Had to be less stressful than running his billion dollar corporation.

He wondered what woman would be interested in the person he’d created in his profile—a man who wasn’t a billionaire, but rather a man who lived a regular life. He was intrigued by the thought, actually. In a way it felt as if he was infiltrating the dating site as a way to do some research. Kind of like those shows where the boss pretended to be an employee to see what it was really like to work at his own company. Luke wanted to see what it was like to date a woman who was interested in him for him, separate from his financial worth. A woman who had no idea he was a billionaire but instead believed he was a regular Joe.

The app notified him that several women had shown interest in his profile since he’d created it the night before. He skimmed through the profiles of the women who had apparently swiped right on him. One in particular caught his eye. Cait. Honey blonde hair and an engaging smile. Enjoyed outdoor activities. Taught elementary school. 

He stared at her picture for several long moments, then on impulse, he sent her a message.

Chloe strummed the guitar in her hands, her eyes closed, her entire being focused on the notes that filled the space around her. In the cozy music room inside her ridiculously large house—more of a mansion, really—she could hear the song she was creating before her fingers ran across the strings of her favorite guitar. It was that magical moment when she could feel the song as she created it, knew it would be a hit. The melody surrounded her, filled her up. She was one with it, each individual note claiming a place in her soul. The lyrics she had already written fell into their perfect place as she felt herself soaring above it all.

Ding-dong!

The doorbell rang, followed by a resounding knock. Her eyes snapped open. She was yanked out of the flow.

Supremely annoyed, she frowned deeply. Getting into the flow was always a challenge, especially when she was composing original music. Interruptions were her worst enemy. She hit the pause button on the recording app on her phone. She always recorded her work when she was composing. That way, when she was working in the studio with her creative team, she would be able to remember exactly how she wanted a particular song to sound. And it was critical to get it right. Expectations for her next album were high. Not only what she expected from herself, but her fans and her record label were expecting great things as well. It had been nearly a year since she’d released her second album. That one had rocketed up the charts, propelling her to pop star status. Only trouble was, now she felt the pressure to exceed its success.

The doorbell rang again, followed by another strong knock.

Normally Beth, her assistant and best friend, would answer the door, but she was at a doctors appointment that morning. No one else was in the house, which was just how Chloe preferred it. The rest of her team—business manager, public relations person, creative team, and glam squad—stayed away unless absolutely necessary. Especially when she was working. Which had now abruptly come to an end, thanks to whomever was at her door.

Sighing audibly, Chloe set her guitar aside and marched to the front door. The thick, dark wood that separated her from the world was beautiful and imposing, but as she reached for the knob, she hesitated. What if it was a fan who had scaled her security gate? That hadn’t happened since moving to this mansion in the hills above Los Angeles, but it was a possibility. Then again, if it wasn’t for the fans, she wouldn’t be able to make a living—an extremely lucrative living—doing what she loved. Still, that didn’t mean she had to let them approach her at her home, her sanctuary. Then she thought about her manager, Scotty, who had been trying to convince her to beef up security Though she understood his concerns, she desperately wanted to keep her life as normal as possible. Being suddenly thrust into the spotlight had been a challenge, but she still clung to as much of her previous life as she could. Like being able to answer her front door without fear.

With a soft sigh, she tugged the door open.

A man who looked like he was in his late twenties stood on her porch. Over six feet tall, he wore dark gray slacks and a form-fitting, light blue dress shirt that did nothing to hide his muscular biceps and trim body. His black hair was short, as was his beard. His eyes—a startling blue with a hint of pale green—seemed to pierce her as they zoomed in on her face. And he was scowling. One of his eyebrows arched “You shouldn’t be answering your door.”

She recoiled at his audacity, her mouth falling open as she made a scoffing sound. What the heck? He’d interrupted her, and now he was telling her that she shouldn’t be answering her own door? Who did he think he was? And how did he get through the gate?

Beyond irritated, Chloe glared at him. She would show him what she thought of him and his idiotic remark. She shoved the door to close it, but it stopped a good six inches from the door frame. She pushed harder, but it didn’t budge. That’s when she noticed that his foot was wedged in the doorway. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice dripped with contempt.

He glanced down at his foot with a frown before meeting her gaze. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t be answering your door.”

Fury building, Chloe struggled to contain her rapidly rising temper. With gritted teeth, she said, “Move.” When he didn’t, she opened the door wider, then shoved him in the chest with all of her might, but it was like shoving a brick wall—hard and immovable. Kind of stunned—and becoming alarmed—she took a step back. What was she supposed to do now?

Maybe she could reason with him. “What do you want?”

“You’re Chloe Ross.” He said it matter-of-factly, like he recognized her but wasn’t the least bit impressed.

Was he a crazed fan? Was he going to do her harm? Her alarm began to morph into panic. Should she scream for help? But who would come? She was home all alone and her neighbors’ houses weren’t that close—if they were even around. Knowing how vulnerable she was didn’t frighten her. Instead, it made her livid. “Get off of my property before I call the police.”

At her words, a broad smile curved his lips. That smile completely transformed his face.

Taken aback not only by his lack of concern over her threat, but also by how incredibly good-looking he was, Chloe found herself speechless. Not something that happened often.

“Let’s start over,” the man said as he stuck out his hand. “I’m Jake Mitchell, your bodyguard.”

Bodyguard? What bodyguard? Chloe knew nothing about a bodyguard. Then she noticed that he’d taken his foot out of the door. Not wasting a moment, she slammed the door in his face and turned the deadbolt.

* * *

Jake stood on the porch staring at the huge wooden door, his hand still outstretched. Then he laughed. He couldn’t help himself. This hadn’t gone anything like he’d pictured. Of course, he was totally new at this bodyguard thing so he had no basis for comparison. Still, he hadn’t expected to be greeted by such a petite spitfire. 

He dropped his arm to his side as his laughter died down. He pictured the range of emotions that had skidded across Chloe’s face—annoyance, disbelief, and then fear. That last one hit him hardest. What if he’d been some psycho-stalker come to harm her? She would have been easy prey.

That’s why you’re here, he reminded himself. To protect her. To keep her safe. 

Only one problem—she obviously had no idea that a bodyguard would be coming. Who had hired his employer, Titan Security? Her manager? Her record label? Why hadn’t they clued her in?

Then it hit him. Whoever it was had wanted to spring it on her because she’d been resistant. So typical of a pop star who thought the world revolved around her but had zero clue to the actual dangers that surrounded her.

Shaking his head as he sighed, Jake stepped off of the porch and strode to his Jeep, climbing behind the wheel and making himself comfortable. He was at the job he’d been assigned to and he wasn’t about to leave. Now it was up to her people to get her on board.

The moment she woke she knew something was seriously wrong. Glancing around the room where she lay, she recognized that she was in a hospital. But why? What had happened? Her mind was fuzzy, her world uncertain, and when she wasn’t even sure who she was, panic set in.

A tall, attractive man who she guessed was in his late twenties approached her bed, his eyes shiny with relief. The look on his face gave her a sense of calm. But only for a moment. Who was this stranger reaching for her?

As he drew near, she recoiled. 

He stopped, his eyebrows tugging together. “Olivia?”

Was that her name? It felt familiar, but she couldn’t be sure. 

The sincere look of concern in his eyes made her want to agree, to nod, to pretend that she knew he was talking about her. Still, she couldn’t quite get there. Not when everything felt so uncertain, so…unknown.

When she didn’t reply, he stayed near the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Blankets over her lower body kept her from seeing what damage she had to her legs, but her right ankle ached, and her head pounded in time with her heartbeat. She reached up and felt a small bandage on her head. A head injury. That was bad, right?

What had happened? She was in the hospital, so obviously she was hurt or sick. Had she been in some kind of accident? Had she been attacked? Not knowing scared her more than the fact that she was laid up in a hospital bed.

Not wanting to think about how much she didn’t know, she focused on her pounding head, but that only made her grimace.

“Do you want morphine?” the man asked, his forehead creased.

Morphine? Would that knock her out or just take the edge off? She wanted the pain to vanish, but she also wanted her wits about her. Especially with this stranger hovering around her. Maybe she should ask him to leave. But what if he had answers? 

“I…” she began, but her voice was scratchy. Swiveling her head to find some water, when it was just out of reach, she closed her eyes in frustration.

The man was by her side in two long strides. “Here.” He held the straw to her lips. “Just sips.”

She complied without argument, and when she’d had enough she leaned away from the straw. The man stepped back, taking the glass away. Lifting her gaze to his face, when his grey eyes met hers with an unflinching stare, a stare that said I know you well, she felt unsettled. How could he know her when she had no clue who he was?

Wanting to focus anywhere but his eyes—eyes that seemed to see into her very soul—she turned her attention to the rest of him. 

He was tall—over six feet. And he was built. Powerful biceps were visible in his short-sleeved t-shirt, and the way the fabric lay against his stomach hinted at six-pack abs. His dark hair was cut short and his strong jaw was covered by a perfectly trimmed beard. But those eyes... Something about them drew her in. 

He was attractive, no doubt about that. But that didn’t help. She still had no idea who he was.

“Who…are you?”

He took a step back, his brows knitting together. “I’m Greg.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Your husband.”

Husband? She was married? To him? Why didn’t she recognize him? 

This all felt wrong.

Narrowing her eyes, she studied him, looking for any sign of deceit.

Was he telling the truth? But why would he lie?

When she didn’t reply he sent her a long pained look before turning toward the window.