検索キーワード： 著者 "Staci Hart" すべてのカテゴリー

The hot baseball player I'm forced to stay with for my best friend's wedding is off limits. Remy Winfield has more muscles than manners, and he's on a mission to get me into bed by way of the filthiest mouth I've ever wanted to kiss. He doesn't care about my longtime crush or my certainty that we're finally about to happen.

Never thought I’d agree to a marriage of convenience to my hot, firefighter ex boyfriend. Especially after he casually informs me we've been married for ten years. Ten years ago, Wilder and I were so in love that we got married in Vegas for one night only before leaving for college on different sides of the world. He was supposed to mail the annulment papers. Problem is, he didn't. Worse? He didn't tell me. Not even when I came back to town to marry another man.

Staci Hart presents Book 4 in the Roseville Ramblers series.

Staci Hart presents Book 3 in the Roseville Ramblers series.

Twelve years ago, my first and only love left town and never came back. How dare he show up now, looking like that, and he’s running against me for mayor. It’s unfair, him standing there, too tall and handsome for his own good. It’s audacious that his clothes accentuate every lean, strong curve of his body. It’s universal BS that his smile makes my heart flipflop, and it’s patently un-freaking-believable that my body would betray me when he turns that gorgeous smile on me.

No one can ever have Keaton Meyer. Least of all me. The brooding construction manager is a man of myth and legend, rarely seen in the wild. Once upon a time, he was the star quarterback, the smiling homecoming king, royalty in our small town. Until tragedy struck. And then he disappeared completely. Now he’s resurfaced, and I can’t keep my eyes off him. He’s an island surrounded by lava, bound by a desert and guarded by dragons. I don’t stand a sunshine’s chance in a hail storm.

When the devil comes to town, you have to meet him head-on. Which is exactly what I did when Grant Stone rolled into our small Texas town, driving a sports car I could fit in the bed of my truck, wearing a suit as black as his soul. He’s here to acquire mineral rights to half a dozen farms in town. And there’s no way he’s getting mine. I don’t make deals with the devil.

Olivia Brent has one summer to save the dairy farm she just inherited. But there's one problem, and it's not her lactose intolerance. It's Jake Milovic. The brooding farmhand has inherited exactly 50 percent of Brent Farm, and he's so convinced the city girl can't work the land, he bets she can't save it in a summer. Determined to prove him wrong, Olivia accepts what might be the dumbest wager of her life.

Hate is a strong word. Depending on the company, loathe is a good substitute. Abhor might be a little fancy, but it gets the job done. But the word that really sums up how I feel about Liam Darcy is, without question, hate. He doesn't seem to think much of me either. The second he lays his fault-seeking eyes on me, he sets out to oppose me. Everything about him is imposing, as if he consumes the nearby air to power the rise and fall of his broad chest, and it's clear he resents my presence on his advertising team.

The second Annie Daschle tumbles into my arms, I'm a goner. When she asks if we're hiring at Wasted Words, I can only say yes, even though we aren't - it's that early on that I realize I can't say no to her. Not when she asks me to show her around New York, even though I already know I should stay away. Not when she asks if we're friends because I want her so much more than that. But she isn't mine, and she never can be.

You are cordially invited to the party of the century. There's no greater thrill than in the moment a courier hands you the heavy invitation with those words etched on the front. Because you've just joined the most exclusive group in New York. The Bright Young Things. Lavish parties. Irreverent treasure hunts. Every event is a sparkling spectacle, stalked not only by the media, but by the law, who's declared war. They're out to ruin everyone's good time, starting with uncovering the mysterious benefactor leading the group....

She's everything I want, and she can never be mine. I thought my heart was too mangled to love. I thought my soul was too sullied to touch something so pure. I thought I knew myself. But the truth is that it's all a lie, and she's the only one who can save me from myself. But I don't deserve her. And she can never be mine, no matter how much I need her. Best-selling author Staci Hart brings you an addictive romantic mythology series where love is the ultimate game, and Aphrodite always wins.

Sometimes your life is split by a single decision. I've spent every day of the last seven years regretting mine: He left, and I didn't follow. A thousand letters went unanswered, my words like petals in the wind, spinning away into nothing, taking me with them. But now he's back. I barely recognize the man he's become, but I can still see a glimmer of the boy who asked me to be his forever, the boy I walked away from when I was young and afraid. Maybe if he'd come home under better circumstances, he could speak to me without anger in his voice.

Even the gods cannot betray the will of the stars. It's been a hundred years since she's warmed my bed, a hundred years spent waiting for her. Now we'll compete again in a game that matters little to me. My prize is far greater than a token to be paid for a favor - I want her. And for the first time in a very long time, I have the chance to keep her. Because now the ground has shifted, tilted in my favor, and with her footing unsteady, she will fall. I will catch her. This time, I won't let go.

Nothing good comes after the third date. Date three is the crucial point when things get real, which is exactly why I bounce out the door, twiddling my fingers at whatever poor boy I've left behind. Because, if I stick around, one of three things will happen: he'll profess his undying love, he'll get weird and stalky, or I'll go crazy. Like, Sid and Nancy crazy. Like, chase-him-through-the-streets-begging-him-to-love-me crazy. Seriously, it's better for everyone this way.

Joel Anderson doesn't take anything seriously. Not his relationships, which have been few and far between since his brutal divorce. Not the drama of working in a tattoo parlor, which seems to be around every corner. When things get him down, he smiles and cracks a joke. But he's not the kind of man you cross, or you'll find yourself at the wrong end of his fists. A standalone romantic comedy.

For nine long months, I've been fighting to figure out how to be a single dad, how to be alone. For nine long months, I've been failing. When Hannah walked through the door, I took my first breath since I'd found myself on my own. She slipped into our lives effortlessly, showing me what I've been missing all these years. Because Hannah made me smile when I thought I'd packed the notion of happiness away with my wedding album.

Once Rose Fisher makes a decision, that's it. End of story. Like when her ex, Patrick, dumped her out of the blue, then showed up with a super-hot, tatted up sex kitten on his arm. Then it was over for good. The end. Poof. Dead to her. Except he was everywhere - down the hall, at the bar with their friends, worming his way into her dreams. But with their friends paired off, they're left alone more and more. Rose is determined to keep him friend-zoned.

Love is somewhere near the bottom of Lily Thomas' list of life goals, right next to competitive eating and underwater cave diving. She's spent six years pirouetting and pliéing her way up the ranks of the New York Ballet with her eye on the prize and love in the back seat. But now that Blane Baker - Lily's long time crush - is finally single, she'll throw her rules out the window without thinking twice.

Some universal truths refuse to be ignored. Peanut butter and jelly are a match made in heaven. Spaghetti and meatballs are best friends forever. And guys like Tyler Knight don't go for girls like Cam Emerson. She knew from the second she met him that he didn't belong on her bookshelf, the six-foot-six ex-tight end with a face so all-American, it could have sold apple pie.