Showing results by author "Marika Ray" in All Categories

My return home to my family's small town hasn't been easy, but the new contractor I hired—a struggling but strong-willed single mom—keeps stripping her clothes off on the job site, which certainly spices things up. (She swears a spider crawled under her shirt.) She also divulges she's scared of her ex and he's taking her to court for custody of their daughter. I hate to see a woman mistreated, so I step up and marry her so she has a stronger case in front of the judge. Temporarily, of course.

He's a tattooed, blue-eyed jerk who has no business being a single dad. He's also my next-door neighbor, and after negotiations, my grumpy employer for the summer. I don't put up with cocky males normally, and I certainly won't put up with that man making noise at all hours of the day and night while he builds his glamp-ground. I offer advice, but the stubborn fool just turns his tractor on to drown me out. He returns the favor by pushing my buttons and making me so angry I can't see straight. And I really want to be able to see his gorgeous body in those well-worn jeans and backward hat.

The tattooed stranger rode a motorcycle while helping me collect stray cats. My boots gave me blisters and he carried me on his back. I needed help and he didn't ask questions before assisting me. Could there be a more perfect man? It just made sense to lick him and claim him as mine right then and there. I probably should have asked him more questions before we slept together. Like, what's your last name? Where've you been living before moving here to my hometown? Is my older brother your best friend? Those kinds of questions. But sadly, I didn't. And now I'm staring at two pink lines.

He's a hot, shirtless hockey player…and he’s my fake date for my ex-husband’s wedding. Talk about a hot flash to beat all hot flashes. The wedding bells are ringing and my ex-husband is the groom! When my grown kids hook me up with a fake date to my ex-hubby's tropical island nuptials, I expect sun, sand, and plenty of fruity cocktails—not steamy nights with a shirtless pro hockey player!

The last person I expected to run into when I moved back home was my ex-wife, Tully Cassio—my high school sweetheart, the love of my life, the woman I hated as much as I still loved. She dumped me nineteen years ago and moved to Hollywood, quickly becoming a star and leaving our marriage in the dust. My dad's last wish included my moving back home and joining the local fire department. I agreed, mostly to be there to take care of Mom. But apparently, I'm not the only one back in Blueball, and now I'm somehow working with Tully on the fundraiser needed to keep the fire station open.

He's a giant of a man who grunts for words and barks out orders, yet circumstances require I be his fake girlfriend and spend the weekend with him in an isolated cabin. And of course there's only one bed. Just my luck . . .But I need this commission check that only Boston can guarantee me. So I hike up the mountain 'til I can't feel my legs, eat questionable canned beans for sustenance, and vow to simply ignore him for two days. What I didn't count on was a freak blizzard to lock us in the cabin for a bit longer.

He's a dashing millionaire who thinks everything in life is one big joke. He's also my new neighbor, and after a humiliating experience in the cemetery that is my backyard, he becomes my shadow, showing up everywhere just to annoy me. I'm not a fan of happy people. They bother me with their constant grins and rainbows coming out of their ears, and Vander Booth is the king of smiles. Despite my efforts to scare him away with both my profession as an undertaker and my general need for frowning through most of my workday, he sticks around like a bad case of poison ivy.

I was kind of a genius normally. I'd managed to graduate early and was about to open my own veterinary clinic in my home town of Hell. I clearly had my life together. Until Blaze came back to town, moving slower than a sloth on crutches, more wounded emotionally than physically. We ended up bonding over stray dogs, exes from hell, and oddly enough, shared grief. But helping him get his life back together could cost me my heart . . . and destroy his friendship with my brother.

Lincoln Cunningham doesn't do relationships. Mostly because he learned in college that he doesn't do them well. Translation: book smart guys focused on learning the art and science of vineyard tending aren't always girl smart. Lincoln's mother, however, isn't so sure. Her oldest son found his match, and now her sights are set on Linc. Why she insists on setting him up at the Paint it Pal pottery shop is beyond anyone's grasp.

No woman wants a pity proposal. Just because I’m turning forty, dealing with perimenopause, and recently dumped another loser doesn’t mean I need rescuing—especially not by my best friend. But when Dallas Gamble blurts out that we’re engaged in a very public attempt at protecting me, there’s not much I can do but play along. Bless his dumb, beautiful heart. The man has always been impulsive. Protective. Flirty. And able to fill out a pair of Levi’s like nobody’s business. In no time at all, he slides a ring on my finger, moves me into his house, and swears it’s no big deal.

Callan Hellman. Mr. Nice Guy paramedic. My best friend. He buys my friends flowers when he knows they've had a hard day. Who does that? Callan's the guy every girl wants to date and take home to mama. Not me though. We're just friends. Have been since elementary school. I was the weird girl who kept him laughing with my antics, even when his father abandoned his family and Callan hid those scars behind his smile. But due to my sudden medical diagnosis at twenty-four, Callan insists I move in with him.

You could say I was a successful twenty-four-year-old, if you looked at my house sitting on the edge of a cliff with killer views of the Pacific Ocean. Or my bank account with seven figures from my coaching business. But according to my frenemy, the girl who invited me to her bachelorette party at an exclusive resort in Lake Tahoe, I was just a sad, lonely girl without a man by my side. I'd show her who was living the dream by finding a tall, dark, and handsome man to rock my world for one night.

I'm getting by just fine on my own when the boy who stole my heart and ran away 12 years ago shows up in town again. He's a big shot baseball player now, needing my help to rehab his knee. If he'd just lay off the flirting and the dimples he throws with each grin, I might be able to do my job. Good thing I'm not dumb enough to fall for him a second time.

The first time I met her, she was running away from her own wedding. The second time I met her, she tried to get me fired from my job. The third time? I had to haul her drunk self off the bar before she completed her amateur—and hot as hell—striptease. She's messy, chaos in human form, and not at all who she claims to be. Everything I've worked so hard for depends on her not screwing things up for me. I should run, not walk, away from her, but all I want to do is strip her layers until I get to the . . . heart—yeah, that's what I was going to say—of who she really is.

When his agent drops him and rumors of a trade swirl through the league faster than a puck on a breakaway, I find myself in the dreaded role of Banks’s new agent. There’s no doubt I can save his career from crashing into the boards, but only if we don’t strangle each other first. All I need to do is whip this man-baby into shape and negotiate an epic contract that will establish me once and for all as the top hockey agent in the league.

I’m a hot-headed pro hockey player with a reputation for two things: reckless fights on the ice and a taste for older women off of it. But this time I might just be in over my head with an older single mom.

I'm unemployed and down to my last dollar—thank you, stranger, who bought my coffee when my card was declined this morning. If that wasn't bad enough, I just T-boned the truck belonging to the guy I was meeting on a first date. Ethan Hellman, small-town sweetheart with a secret, and an instant—unbelievable—love for me despite the condition of his truck. It's not that I don't believe in love per se. It's just that I've done the calculations—it won't happen to me. And especially not now when I'm bouncing off rock bottom with the bruises to prove it.

When I kissed her in that crowded bar, I had no idea she was my coach’s daughter. I know better, believe me. It’ll never happen again. I’m on the cusp of hanging up my hockey skates forever while embroiled in a custody battle for my daughter. I have no business getting involved with any woman. Least of all the one that’s totally off limits. But Chloe’s looking for a little fun in life and she has no problem flaunting her impressive hockey skills and sultry good looks. In fact, I think she enjoys torturing me.