Showing results by author "Melanie Harlow" in All Categories

When a psychic tells Natalie Nixon her life is about to be upended by a mysterious stranger, she laughs it off. After all, she has everything she's ever wanted - a successful bakery, the perfect boyfriend, and the keys to her dream house. Who could possibly make her want to throw all that away?

You might think I had it all - a career I loved, a supportive family, the Nixon metabolism but not the Nixon ears, and a salary that supported my lavish taste in designer shoes, fine wine, and lacy lingerie - but I had no one to share it with. Until the day I ran into him - my one-night stand from college with the crooked smile, let's-get-out-of-here eyes, and dirty, dirty mouth. Cute and cocky then, today Levi Brooks is six feet four inches of hot bearded fantasy.

My new neighbor is a firefighter - and a scorching-hot single dad - but I swear I didn’t set off that smoke alarm on purpose. (And I was beyond mortified when he rushed in and saw me naked.) Nothing happened, of course - because I, Winnie MacAllister, romance junkie and owner of a constantly broken heart, have sworn off men for one solid year. Even protective men with chiseled jaws, bulging biceps, and deep brown eyes that make my breath come faster.

In my defense, I thought the plane was going to crash. Otherwise, I never would have blurted out those embarrassing things to a perfect stranger. Did I mention he turned out to be a scorching hot superstar of professional hockey? But wait, there’s more. When the plane lands safely, I rush off, praying I’ll never have to face him again. My luck holds out for less than twenty-four hours, when I realize he’s a groomsman at the wedding I’m attending.

Theo MacLeod wasn't supposed to be the one. Tall, dark and handsome suits me just fine, but the cocky grin, know-it-all attitude, and mammoth ego? No thanks. I only hired him so I wouldn't have to sit at the singles table again. It was just pretend. He wasn't supposed to kiss me. My heart wasn't supposed to pound. We weren't supposed to spend the night together - the hottest night of my life.

I didn’t realize who the gruff, gorgeous older man was the night he rescued me from a creep in a Manhattan hotel. All I knew was that a hot, bearded stranger with a protective streak showed up right when I needed a reminder that real gentlemen still exist.

I almost didn't believe it was him. In high school, Sebastian Pryce had been an aloof outsider who kept to himself. But now, 10 years later, he's back and unusually attractive. With muscles in all the right places and hands that know exactly what they're doing, Sebastian is everything I didn't know I needed. And while he isn't exactly friendly, he has a magnetism that draws me in.

I’m a full-time single dad to three daughters and CFO at Cloverleigh Farms. I don’t have time to fall in love - I’m too busy trying to run a business, keep the red socks out of the white laundry, and get the damn pillowcases on without owing a dollar to the swear jar. Sure, Frannie Sawyer is beautiful and sweet, but she’s 27, the boss’ daughter, and my new part-time nanny - which means she’s completely off-limits. It’s bad enough I can’t stop fantasizing about her. What kind of jerk would I be if I acted on the impulse to kiss her?

Just friends. That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been. Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family’s ranch. Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were 17. And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis? He makes a girl sweat just looking at him...and I look. A lot. But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father.

I didn’t mean to say I was engaged to a hot billionaire–it just slipped out. In my defense, I’d had a really bad haircut, a really strong drink, and I was trying to save face in front of the Mean Girl at my high school reunion. Lucky for me, I happen to know a hot billionaire. Hutton French and I have been friends forever, and even though big social gatherings are not his thing, I called him from the coat closet and begged him for a favor–show up and play my fake fiancé for the night. Except that word of our engagement spreads like wildfire.

He’s my brother’s best friend, the hot single dad next door. And one accidental sext later, my massive crush on him is no longer a secret. It’s my own damn fault. I’m 30 years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a (reasonably) responsible adult. I should know better than to get tipsy and draft a fake text listing all the dirty things I wish Officer Cole Mitchell would do to me. I wasn’t supposed to hit send. And he wasn’t supposed to see it.

When Blair Beaufort literally crashes into Bellamy Creek wearing a ball gown and a tiara, I should have towed her car, said goodnight, and sent her packing. I’m a mechanic, not a hotel manager. I've got enough on my plate trying to keep my shop from going under, my overbearing mother off my back, and my baseball team in contention for the league championship. I don’t have time for a former debutante with zero street smarts and a cash flow problem, even if she is crazy beautiful. But I know better than to think it can last. She wants a fairy tale, and I’m no prince.

When we were 11, Oliver Ford Pemberton dared me to jump off a barn roof. He said you couldn’t break a leg from a 12-foot jump. He lied. (You can also break a collarbone, which served him right as far as I was concerned.) I wish I could say it was the last dare I ever took from him, the last bet I ever made with him, the last time I ever trusted Oliver Ford Pemberton. But it wasn’t. Because he had the nerve to grow up gorgeous, charming, and sexy. And as we got older, the dares only got dirtier - and the betting stakes higher - until finally, he left me in pieces.

Only in the movies does the Hollywood heartthrob fall for the small town diner waitress. So when Dashiel Buckley returns to Cherry Tree Harbor for a wedding, I’m determined not to let my massive crush on my best friend’s older brother hijack my good sense.

Yes, I’m a single dad who needs a nanny for the summer. But hiring the stranded runaway bride who shows up on my doorstep in a wedding gown with no references, no skills, and no experience? No one is that desperate.

Xander Buckley might be hotter than a stolen blow torch, and I get that he’s a former Navy SEAL and all, but the man gives new meaning to the words overbearing, overprotective, bossy alpha male. I can’t even post a photo on social media without him warning me it’s not safe or take a morning jog without him following behind. But he’s made it clear that what he says goes, and if I don’t like it, I can kiss my vacation goodbye. Instead, I end up kissing him.

He's smart, successful, and sexy as hell - I can barely sleep knowing he's right down the hall. And when the chemistry between us explodes one night with fierce, fiery passion, it's hard to deny there's something real there. But he does....

Ian Chase broke my heart at 17, and I’ve spent the last 18 years hating him for it. He makes it easy, with his smart mouth and playboy lifestyle - which I unfortunately have to observe since he lives behind me. Every time I see him climbing out of his pool, practically naked and unreasonably sexy, my blood boils. I’ve always loved to loathe him. I never planned to need him.

Jack Valentini isn't my type. Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave. Jack might be gorgeous, but he's also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a "rich city girl" like me, and he isn't afraid to say so. But I've got a PR job to do for his family's farm, so he's stuck with me and I'm stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles. His huge, hard muscles.

It was the perfect plan. I needed a wife - temporarily - in order to inherit the family business. And she needed a favor - the kind that takes nine months to deliver. We had it all worked out, from the no-touching policy on our wedding night (her rule) to the no-falling-in-love decree (mine). She’d marry me, I’d give her the means to have the baby she’d always wanted, and one year later we’d amicably part ways with no hassle, no demands, and certainly no regrets. After all, Bianca DeRossi and I are experts at infuriating one another - we’ve been doing it since we were kids.