検索キーワード： 著者 "Julia Kent" すべてのカテゴリー

I swear I am not the kind of person who gets her cell phone caught in places that require an ER trip and an OBGYN. But apparently, I am. I’m also not the kind of person who spends all her time thinking about the guy who got away. But apparently, I am, too. Starting a new life in Boston isn’t supposed to include repeatedly embarrassing myself in public, meeting a crazy blond woman who has ties to the band Random Acts of Crazy, and definitely isn’t supposed to include wallowing in a past I thought I’d left behind four years ago.

I never intended to pick up a naked hitchhiker wearing nothing but a guitar. A guitar. Really. I don't collect guys like that (don't ask what kind of guys I do collect), but when you spot a blond, tanned, sculpted man with a gorgeous smile and his thumb poking up and practically begging you to stop - you stop. And I definitely never thought I'd be staring into the bright blue eyes of Trevor Connor, the lead singer for Random Acts of Crazy, an indie rock star I followed like the slobbering fileshare fangirl I am.

I'm not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland. Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends. So what is Chris "Fletch" Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he's pattern matching a picture to find a real person he's never met before? Oh. Oh, no. The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.

The series continues with a zany post-Vegas-wedding mess where Andrew and Amanda have to figure out who they married (book nine), the chauffeur/bodyguard has his own second-chance romance (book 10), and Shannon and Declan have a honeymoon with a lot of, erm...bite (book 11). How could you go wrong with so much laughter, heart, and plenty of steamy romance?

When I was young and impulsive (okay, it was only five years ago, alright?) I let my boyfriend take, let's just say...compromising pictures of me. (Shut up. It made sense at the time.) Surprise! The sleazy back-stabbing jerk posted them on a website and, well, you can guess what happened. I’m a meme. Now I get tagged on social media whenever anyone shares them. You try getting a thousand notifications a day, all of them pictures of your tatas. It’s time for revenge. But how do you get embarrassingly intimate pictures of your jerkface ex who double-crossed you five years ago?

Get books 6: Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancee, 7: Shopping for a CEO and 8: Shopping for a Billionaire's Wife in one BIG bundle of laughter, community, and - of course - romance in Julia Kent's New York Times bestselling series. Audiobook lovers can also get all three books in one big, 24-hour-long bundle! Narrated by Zachary Webber, Amy McFadden and Tanya Eby. Give your ears something to look forward to!

Ten years ago, my high school crush found me during senior finals week in the student parking lot with my car decorated with items you find behind a drugstore counter and a "Most Likely to..." banner that would make a pro blush. And by "pro", I don't mean golf. In under an hour, everything I knew about myself was turned upside down and inside out, just as our high school career was in its final hours.

It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did. I'm a professional fluffer. It's not what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits. Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I'll wait. See? That's the problem. My career has used the term "fluffer" for decades. I didn't even know there was a more...lascivious definition of the term. Until it was too late.

We're ready. We've studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it's time. And by "we", I mean me. Declan's just ready for the "have lots of sex" part. More than ready. But there's just one problem: My husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition. McCormick men don't just have babies. They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.

My mother wants all her kids and grandkids to spend Christmas Eve at her house and wake up on Christmas morning together. Sounds reasonable, right? And it would be. If it weren’t my mother. My husband, Declan, is protesting any involvement, though he’s openly intrigued by the idea of claiming his territory by having sex in my childhood bed. And by intrigued, I mean a series of really hot suggestions that make me whimper when I have to say no. Wait - why am I saying no, again?

He is addicted to his phone and his new role as CEO. I’m addicted to getting some on my own honeymoon. One of these things is not like the other. I am pretty sure a serial killer’s lair is the only place in the world where I could stash my new husband so he can’t manage the acquisition of our new company. And that seems a little drastic. But only a little. All I want is one week alone with him. Hours in bed, legs tangled together in ecstasy, room service and long walks on the beach in Hawaii.

Gerald Wright works for billionaires. He never imagined he'd become one.The former Navy Seal is a chauffeur by day, artist by night, so when hotter-than-ever ex-fiancée Suzanne Dayton interrupts his nude model sculpting class to serve him with inheritance paperwork from a man he's never heard of, he assumes it's a joke. Turns out the joke's on him. There's just one catch. A big one. And it might be Suzanne - in more ways than he ever dreamed.

Snowbound. Sounds so romantic, with visions of cuddling before a roaring fire, hot chocolate spiked with brandy, and a secret elopement. Wait. What? My fiancé's father won't stop trying to turn our pending wedding into a three-ring media circus so he can get free publicity for his family's Fortune 500 company. My mother has decided she's done with All Things Wedding and asks her teacup Chihuahua for mother-of-the-bride advice. They've all gone certifiably mad.

I'm thrilled to be the maid of honor in my friend's wedding, but the best man, Andrew McCormick, is a chauvinistic pig with a god complex. And I can't stop kissing him in closets.

We skipped right over the whole fiancée thing and went straight from girlfriend to wife. At least, I think that's what happened. I woke up after my brother's Vegas wedding reception with my luscious girlfriend in bed with me. We're both wearing wedding rings. So is her coworker, Josh. And our Vegas chauffeur, Geordi. Who the hell am I married to? Unraveling this mystery will be as difficult as figuring out why Amanda and I are having panic attacks over the thought of being husband and wife.

Ever meet a hot billionaire while your hand's in a toilet in the men's room of one of his stores? No? So it really is just me. Hmm. When you're a mystery shopper, you get paid to humiliate yourself, all in the name of improving customer service. Romance isn't in my job description. But the day I met Declan McCormick it was love at first flush. Until I nearly castrated him with my EpiPen. How Hot Guy and Toilet Girl became an item involves my crazy mom, a trip to the ER, my homicidal cat, my fake wife, and true love.

Who needs a SWAT team to escape from their own wedding? Me. My Momzilla turned us into hostages at our own ceremony, so Declan and I are getting married the good old-fashioned way, just like everybody else. By calling in his private security team, stealing away before the ceremony by helicopter, connecting to his corporate jet and heading for Las Vegas.

Many know the tragic story of Anne Frank, the teen whose life ended at Auschwitz during the Holocaust. But most people don’t know about Eva Schloss, Anne’s playmate and stepsister. Though Eva, like Anne, was taken to Auschwitz at the age of 15, her story did not end there. This incredible memoir recounts - without bitterness or hatred - the horrors of war, the love between mother and daughter, and the strength and determination that helped a family overcome danger and tragedy.

Dad gave me my late mother's engagement ring, platinum and diamonds galore. Shannon wouldn't care if I slid a giant hard-candy ring on her finger instead of a three-carat diamond designed to impress. But my future mother-in-law, Marie, will pass out when she sets eyes on that rock, which will give us two minutes of blessed silence ... I was going to make it perfect, from the color of the tablecloth to the freshness of the roses. And it was perfect...until Shannon swallowed the ring.

How do you top the perfect wedding to the perfect man in the best hometown with the greatest best friends ever? With an even better reception. And how do you top the best reception ever? With the picture-perfect honeymoon in Fiji. Except when our past comes back to haunt us, things don’t go quite as planned.