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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

I'm Ava James, fall queen, pumpkin spice enthusiast, proud owner of Beachy Balls, Biscuits, and Books, and dating consultant extraordinaire (in my head). Right now, I'm juggling three goals: 1. Find a date for the Coconut Beach Fall Festival, so my grandma will stop playing matchmaker for the holiday season. 2. Save my bookstore-bakery from being snatched up by a corporate developer, who wants to turn it into another nondescript hotel. 3. Uncover the identity of my anonymous letter-writer—and maybe, just maybe, ride off into the autumn sunset (or at least a not-too-bumpy hayride) with them.

I'm seeking a billionaire. I will also settle for a millionaire. Sorry, I'm not interested in any salesmen looking to sell me a time-share or a part of their animal balloon company (been there, done that). If interested, please respond before Monday morning so I don't have to go to work.

Dear Sir/Madam, I would like to nominate my jerkface of a boss, Kingston Chase, for the worst boss of the year award. I don't know if that's a category at your esteemed paper as yet, but if not, it should be. Yours Sincerely, Skye Redding.

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 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."

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.

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.

Beau Hamilton is the biggest catch in Montana. He’s handsome, funny, and rich. As the oldest son and heir to one of the largest ranches in the state, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors around. And he knows it. His brother is marrying my best friend, and we’re both in the bridal party. He’s the best man, and I’m the maid of honor. I thought that he was a perfect gentleman until the night of the joint bachelor-bachelorette party. We did things that nobody should ever know about. Not even my best friend.

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.

Lucky Morgan has had her share of heartbreak. She is devastated when her boyfriend dumps her after sleeping with him, and she vows to herself that she won't be used again. Zane Beaumont is a mysterious and snooty guy that comes into her diner every Friday night, always with a different girl. He's the type of guy she has learned to avoid: carefree, fast, handsome, rich, and sarcastic. Unfortunately, she can't stop thinking about the devilish gleam in his eyes.

Can love exist when secrets are revealed and promises are broken? When Brandon Hastings and Greyson Twining started the private club, they never knew just how much it was going to change their lives. Power, greed, sex, and money filled their brains, but love never touched them. When Katie Raymond and Meg Riley entered their lives, everything they thought they knew about life changed. They realized that love meant more to them than anything else and they were ready to start their lives anew.

In this remarkable collection, ten premier scholars of nineteenth-century America address the epochal impact of the Civil War by examining the conflict in terms of three Americas - antebellum, wartime, and postbellum nations. Moreover, they recognize the critical role in this transformative era of three groups of Americans - white northerners, white southerners, and African Americans in the North and South.

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.

When Savannah Carter takes a job as a personal assistant in upstate New York, she never expected to be working for a man like Wade Hart. With his sparkling green eyes and devious smile, he is a man she both hates and adores. When their professional relationship becomes more intimate, Savannah is ecstatic until she hears a phone call that changes everything.

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.