Showing results by author "J. S. Cooper" in All Categories

Gorgeous Sebastian Laurence walked into my life on a stormy Monday afternoon. The thunder and lightning that filled the room upon his entrance should have been a sign that all was not as it seemed. Within a day, he'd asked me out. Within two days, we were in Vegas. Like a fool, I thought this was the beginning of our perfect love story. On Friday, he told me he thought we were soulmates and that we should get married. The very next night the man carried me into our honeymoon suite with love in his eyes.

Dear Grumpy Horrible Boss, You suck as a lawyer. I don't even know how you passed the bar. Or how you sleep at night taking clients like Jack Whittington. Just in case you didn't know, you can't fire me just because I have a part-time job working bachelor parties. What I do on the weekend is none of your business and not a part of my employment contract. If I want to go back to wearing coconut bikinis and popping out of cakes, I can. As soon as I get my big break as an actress, I will be leaving your employ. I am literally counting down the days.

Grumpy billionaire seeking wife…must enjoy sudden trips to Paris, love poems, sparkly diamonds and being pampered. That’s what the headline in the newspaper read right next to the photo of my best friend’s brother, billionaire tycoon Wes Carrington. His handsome, arrogant face is now plastered all over the City with women calling him morning, noon, and night seeking dates.

Aiden Taylor. He's devastatingly handsome, sexy, arrogant, and he's out of reach. He's my best friend's brother and the one man I can't have. However, now that my best friend, Liv, is getting married, I'm seeing him more than ever. And he's doing things to me that are making it hard for me to forget him.

I never intended to actually send the email. I’m not crazy. It was just a way to vent. I actually did need the money way too much to go off on my boss. Only when I went into office the next day, there was a note on my desk. It read, “A million years is up. See me in my office.”

I pretended to be the girlfriend of one of the richest men in New York City. It was only meant to be the one time. I mean it was the week before Christmas, I was shopping with my best friend and we were hungry and wanted to dine at the new swanky restaurant on the upper west side. For some reason the hostess misheard me when I mentioned Max Parker’s name. I’d been complaining that he was the reason why I’d lost my job. Who was I to correct her when it meant that “my relationship” had caused a table to suddenly open up?

During the day, I work for Dylan McAllister, the hunky billionaire who became CEO of his own company at 30. He may be one of the hottest men I’ve ever met in my life, but he’s also the boss from hell. The only reason I’m still his secretary is because I have debt up to my eyeballs, thanks to student loans and an ex who conned me into letting him use my credit cards. Mr. McAllister has no idea that I, his “mousey little secretary”, have a night job just so I can quit as soon as possible. That is until I end up at a bachelor party for his brother.

To Marco (No I’m not going to add Polo), Last night was a mistake. A big mistake. Or rather should I say small? I don’t want to hurt your ego. I should have listened to your sister. You’re insufferable and rude and far too cocky. Don’t worry, I won’t be telling anyone what happened because as far as I’m concerned it never did. Please stop calling me. I do not need to come and collect my bra from you. Or the t-shirt you lent me to sleep in when I got cold. No, that one act doesn’t make you a gentleman. And no, I do not need to have your smell near me to fall asleep.

"To Mr. Tate Howard, You are quite possibly the most infuriating, annoying and grumpy man I’ve ever met in my life. I know you think that you’re God’s gift to women, but I have a secret to let you in on: you’re not. You’re God’s gift to yourself. Get over your wanna-be cool surfer self and grow up. I thought it was time that someone addressed your big head and told you straight to your face that you're not all that. Just because you have an Ivy league education doesn’t mean you’re the smartest man in the world."

When I sent the steamy midnight text with a sensual photo, I knew exactly who I was sending it to. I’d taken the number from my older sister’s phone, because I knew she didn’t want me flirting with her boyfriend’s best friend and business partner. So when he pretended he didn’t know who I was, I decided to go along with it. Having an illicit text relationship with someone I’d been forbidden from flirting with was fun and exciting.

It had been one year, two months and seventeen days since my last date. So my best friend Abby decided to sign me up for a dating app. She guaranteed that she could get me the best date of my life within one week. I didn’t really want to do it, but I figured what did I have to lose? Turns out that I had.

To the rude guy in apartment five, I’m glad you’re happy to have moved into a new apartment, but no: I do not want to have a beer with you. I do not want to have a nude sleepover. I do not want to make you breakfast, lunch or dinner, no matter how many lap dances you promise to give me. I do not need you to serenade me through the walls at 1am. And no, I have no interest in letting you take me on a date. Sincerely, Magnolia Allen

Tyler Redwood, you might be my brother’s best friend, but I find you to be insufferable, cocky, arrogant, immature, and totally annoying. You are not God’s gift to women and certainly not a gift to me. No, I don’t need you to wrap yourself in a bow. And even if you did, I would not be unwrapping it.

City girl in Montana looking for her Romeo. Sounds like the start to a Hallmark movie right? Well, it would, if they had movies about idiot women flying across the country to marry a man they’d never met. That’s what I did. I responded to an ad in a newspaper that I found on the train. And now I’m trying to find Horseshoe Ranch so that I can marry some cowboy I’ve never even seen. And no, this isn’t the 1800s. I’m just desperate. To make matters worse, the cowboy doesn’t even know I’m coming. I figured life couldn’t get any worse in Montana. I was wrong.

Handsome billionaire, Brandon Hastings was Katie Raymond's first love. They had a whirlwind romance that captivated her heart and took her on a sexual journey she never wanted to end. Their future together looked bright until Brandon found out that Katie was keeping a huge secret from him.

Dear Mr. Gallagher, I do not need this job. In fact, I will remind you that I'm doing you a favor. I am working for you only because I don't want you to inflict your grumpiness on my friends any longer. I am a strong, confident woman and know how to put men like you in their place. I won't succumb to your flirtations or your attempts to try and shock me. I am not impressed by your six-pack or your six-figure bank account. I suggest you realize that I am out of your league in so many ways, it's not even funny.

When Liv Taylor met a handsome stranger at a friend's wedding, she decided to give in to temptation. It was lust at first sight, and when she followed the man she nicknamed Mr. Tongue into a room before the wedding ceremony she experienced pleasure like she'd never experienced before. That was why she agreed to one night in his hotel room: one night of unbridled passion. That was all it was supposed to be.

Dear Remington Parker, You may think you're the handsome prince of the law firm and I'm your dutiful wench, but I'm not here to be your plaything. Yes, you're handsome-ish. Yes, you're a partner at the firm. Yes, I'm your ugly duckling assistant. But no, I'm not desperate, and I don't want you. I have no interest in being the nanny to your newly found kid when you want to go on dates. And I have even less interest in your offer to teach me the ways of the world. In fact, after my makeover, I'm pretty sure I'll have plenty of men wanting to help me discover the joys of companionship.

The New York Times best-selling serial, available in one boxed set. Includes The Private Club, The Private Club 2, and The Private Club 3.

I just announced my engagement to a hot billionaire. Yes, you read that right. A billionaire. My family is ecstatic and already celebrating. Only they don't know the truth. My engagement is faker than my Chanel handbag. My fake fiancé, Jackson Pruitt, is paying me to pretend to be in love with him so he can inherit his family's company. How cliché! My parents are planning free trips to Fiji. I'm counting down the days to end this thing. They don't know he's the same man I had a one-night stand with. Or the man who was super annoyed when Lenny at the bodega gave me his number.