Resultado de "Jasinda Wilder" em Todas as categorias

When Kyle Calloway died, he took a part of Nell with him. She wasn't the only one left to pick up the pieces, however; Kyle's death left a gaping hole in the hearts and lives of his parents and his older brother Colton, and ultimately broke the will of the girl he loved.

When you make an enemy of a man like Vitaly Karahalios, there is nowhere on Earth you can go to escape his wrath. He'll find you. He found me; he found Roth. He found Layla. He found us, and now the unthinkable has happened. Someone I love has been kidnapped.

Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, right? That's what they say, at least. I went into that day hoping I'd get the happiest day of my life. What I got? The worst. I mean, you really can't get any worse of a day without someone actually dying. So...I may have gotten just a little drunk, and maybe just a tad impetuous...and landed myself in a dive bar somewhere in Alaska, alone, still in my wedding dress, half wasted and heartbroken.

I was a 68 Whiskey - a combat medic. So when I hear someone shout "MEDIC!", training just kicks in. It's automatic, immediate. I don't think I even saw the guy whose leg I tended to, not really. All I saw was him. Zane Badd. His tuxedo fit him like he'd been sewn into it, and his eyes reflected the fury and the hardness of a combat veteran, but when he looked at me, he just...softened. By the time I had his brother patched, Zane and I were both covered in blood, and I knew I had to have him.

It started with a window that was jammed shut. Pretty simple, right? All I wanted was to open the windows while I tidied the house. I'd been after my no-good husband to do it for months, but he never did. And then he shacked up with his secretary, leaving me with a pile of bills, husband-free for the first time in 10 years, and with a house that was falling apart. The ad popped up on the side of my social media feed - a local contracting agency willing to do pretty much anything. Since I don't really know a screwdriver from a ratchet, I gave them a call.

I swallow hard. He wasn't supposed to make it sweet. He was supposed to leave it dirty and inappropriate, so I could tell myself all he wanted was sex. That all he cared about was getting me naked, or if not that, then at least seeing me naked. Instead, he turned it sweet. And I couldn't tell myself any lies to keep me on my high horse.

Jasinda Wilder presents book four of the Dad Bod Contracting series...

He makes me feel things. It's icky, and I don't like it. I've only known him a few hours. He scares me. But he's so good, I can't stop myself.

It was just supposed to be just a 40th birthday prank for our boss after a wild night of girlfriends, laughter, and a lot of margaritas. When we placed the ad in the newspaper, we never thought anyone would actually answer it. We also didn't think that Laurel would be so brainless as to put Lizzy's actual phone number in the ad....

Autumn Scott is the second woman at Six Chicks Real Estate to fall victim to "The Ad": "Beautiful, successful single woman in search of a wealthy, handsome man to help her get pregnant the old-fashioned way. Financial validation a must. Serious inquiries only. DM for more info." Problem number one? It works, a little too well, one could argue. Problem number two? Autumn has a dark tragic past keeping her from trusting men at all, let alone wanting a baby with one. Problem number three? Seven St. John doesn't take no for an answer, in the sexiest possible way.

Laurel McGillis has a secret: she's a hopeless romantic. She'll deny it up one side and down the other, and all evidence points to the contrary, but it's true. Her deeper secret: she's desperately hoping to be the third victim of The Ad. In this case, Laurel's two secrets are about to cross paths, in the steamiest, most romantic way she could possibly imagine.

One year ago, I buried my husband. One year ago, I held his hand and said goodbye. Now I spend most of my days lost somewhere between trying to remember every smallest detail of our lives, and trying to forget it all. I fill my hours with work until I’m too exhausted to remember him, to feel anything at all. One year, 365 days - and then one knock at my door changes everything. A letter from him, a last request, a secret will: My dearest Nadia, trust me, my love. One last time, trust me. Sometimes the epilogue to one story is the beginning of another.