Р.С. Грей — новинки

Young and naïve—those are his exact words.
Professor Barclay views me as a nuisance, a disruption of his otherwise obedient class and perfectly regimented life. His bad impression of me stems from a simple misunderstanding, and when that impression sours from bad to worse, he decides to make an example out of me in front of the entire class. Every other female student in that auditorium looks on, longing to trade places with me, wishing they were the object of his attention. It’s humiliating. I want nothing to do with him or the tension growing between us, but he feels inescapable.

Deep down, I know I have a crush on him. It’s a shameful feeling I refuse to give life to.
Not that it matters—nothing can come from it. Besides our mutual dislike for one another and the fact that he’s my professor, there’s an age gap that should be warning enough.
While we might cross the line once—the dark glance across a dimly lit bar…the metallic sound of the bathroom door locking behind us…his hand slowly sliding up my skirt—I know it’s a boundary I can’t break again.

Now, more than ever, he’s off-limits.
After four years apart, I’m a brand-new hire at his firm. I’ve convinced myself he won’t remember me. I’m safe here in the wolf’s den.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How easily we can delude ourselves if only we want something bad enough.

Nothing has changed.

That same friction roils between us. My gaze still flees from the chill of his glacier blue eyes. I try to stay out of his way, to keep my distance, but like always we feel inevitable. Fate seems to think I belong in the arms of my old professor, and raging against fate…well, that’s a battle we’re all bound to lose.

It’s simple: Noah Peterson and I are enemies. Our fellow teachers know it, our friends know it—even the Starbucks drive-through lady knows it since every Monday she scrawls the name A. Hole for me on Noah’s cappuccino when I pick up the weekly group order. The shrill whine of the school bell announces the start of each day’s no-holds-barred grudge match. Since neither of us is looking to get fired or thrown in prison, we war with our words and our wits. We prefer banter that bites. All day, I’m on edge, looking around every corner, expecting him to do his worst. Just when I think I can’t take the sight of his (regretfully) handsome face…

I’m good at hiding my feelings.Having to pretend I’m not in love with my best friend?Pfft. That’s child’s play.Here’s how I do it: I avert my eyes when he walks out of his room, shirtless in all his toned glory. I squash the butterflies that fill my stomach every time he slowly unfurls a dimpled smile. And, most importantly, I keep an arsenal of “personal massagers” in my bedside drawer. Wink.Not to brag, but Aiden Smith isn’t hard to resist if you’ve been doing it for as long as I have. In fact, we might have continued as best friends forever if not for the fact that I needed him to play the part of my fake boyfriend.Date me like you mean it, I told him. Nudge nudge. C’mon, just go along with a little lie, help a girl out, and then we can all return to life as we know it.Except he veered from the plan.He crossed the line.Flirting with me when no one else was around? Pinning me down and kissing me like that? Okay, how exactly is taking off my bra part of the ruse, Aiden?!I’d ask him about it if I could, but well…things got ugly and we’re not best friends anymore.In fact, we’re the exact opposite. Now, I have to play nice even though I want to crush his heart in the palm of my hand. Pretending not to love Aiden was the easy part.Pretending not to hate him?Well…I might need a little more practice.

Marry a man I barely know to save my family from ruin.
It might’ve been simple, if my betrothed were anybody else.

On our wedding day, my husband-to-be arrived at the courthouse like a black cloud rolling over Manhattan. Walt didn’t crack smiles or pepper in pleasantries as we exchanged hollow vows in front of the judge.

His disdain for me was so palpable I assumed we’d walk out of that ceremony and resume our regularly scheduled programming. But then fate was like, Hold my beer. I got this.

In desperate need of help and with nowhere else to turn, I had no choice but to ignore a crucial rule in our contract: I shall only contact Mr. Jennings II in case of emergency. But hey, what’s a little fine print between husband and wife?

Turns out, Walt’s a stickler for legalese—I think it might be his love language. Oh, and his attitude at the courthouse wasn’t a put-on. My so-called husband is a jerk. He takes what he wants without giving any consideration to other people—specifically ME, his blushing, contractually-obligated bride!

I knew life with Walt would be no honeymoon, but a marriage of any sort should still come with a few standard guarantees:

To have and to hold.
For richer or poorer.
In sickness and in health.

But after experiencing Walt’s version of wedded bliss, I say let’s forget about all that lovey-dovey crap and just take me straight to death do us part.

CANDACE: KAT & YASMINE! DO NOT DALLY! Come straight home after work. Kat, don’t take the long route from the subway station just so you can pass by Cute Hot Dog Guy. This is important!
I’ve had THE BEST DAY. You won’t believe it. There I was in my preschool classroom, washing a bit of poo out of some soggy trousers, when this absolute babe came to collect his nephew from my class.
Truthfully, I thought I’d blacked out for a moment when I first saw him. He was a proper hunk with glorious brown hair, quite tall, and he had these arms. Are muscly arms supposed to turn me on? I’m panting just thinking about them.
Anyway, he told me he’s a professional foosball player. At least, I think that’s what he said. The tots can get quite loud near pick-up time. YASMINE: Foosball? What are you on about? Have you gone mad?
KAT: Oh sod off. So what if I like to have a good look at Hot Dog Guy’s arse on my trek home after a hard day’s work? It’s called self-care.
CANDACE: Kat, you’re hopeless. Yasmine, yes—foosball! I suppose it’s a big thing over here in the States? We must investigate and learn everything we can.
By the way, he’s called Logan.
Logan + Candace. I think that sounds quite nice! I can hear the wedding bells now. Dum dum da-dum.
YASMINE: Oh good grief. I suppose we can do some snooping when I get home. I’ll grab wine on my way.
KAT: I’ll grab hot dogs.

THE TROUBLE WITH QUARTERBACKS is a hilarious romance about unlikely love found between a British preschool teacher and the professional quarterback who sweeps her off her feet.

Natalie

Dr. Easton is part man, part myth.
He’s a formidable surgeon. Highly respected in his field.
He also happens to be an ex-collegiate quarterback with a classically handsome face.
Are you catching on yet?
He’s horrible.
Beautiful.
A walking Ralph Lauren ad.
He’s also so off limits he should come with a warning label: This way lies heartache.

Not only is he an attending at the hospital where I’m training, he’s also my brother’s best friend. If you’ve lost count, that’s two reasons why I plan on putting this ridiculous crush behind me. Besides, it’s definitely not mutual.

Dr. Easton has never once paid me special attention. No tempting smirks. Not even one subtle innuendo. To him, I’m just another resident—all but invisible.

Connor

For the last five years, I’ve mentored Natalie in the OR, stayed in line, and kept my hands to myself, but it’s been agonizing.

Natalie is trouble in scrubs. A walking temptation I’ve been forced to ignore.

For so long, I’ve wanted her in silence. By the time fate finally gets around to throwing me a bone, my patience has run out.

Natalie’s brother is leaving town, and he wants me to watch over her while he’s gone.

He has no idea how I feel about her.
Neither does she.
But she will.

Haven’t you heard good things come to those who wait, Natalie?
Well… I’ve done my waiting.

I’ve spent eight years wishing I’d fall out of love with Derek Knightley. Blowing out birthday candles, chasing after shooting stars, making it rain spare change into mall fountains—every time it’s the same wish: forget about Derek.But the day he walks back into my life, I realize there are two things time has yet to soften: my feelings for him and his chiseled jawline. It’s infuriating that my heart still races when he walks into a room. I refuse to fall prey to old unrequited love, so I decide the less I’m around him, the better. Avoidance is key.Unfortunately, Derek isn’t going to make it easy. As a teenager, I would have crawled on my hands and knees to attract his attention. Now I can’t seem to escape it.I’m not sure why he’s bothering. He’s not just out of my league—he’s out of my tax bracket. As the sole heir to the Knightley Company, he’s as close to American royalty as you can get. As for me, I’m just a part-time princess at Knightley’s flagship magical theme park.I spend my days playing make-believe, but Derek has no use for fairytales. His unwavering confidence makes it clear he thinks I’ll surrender in the end. He’s just biding his time.Making me sweat. His Royal Highness always gets what he wants.And he wants me.

I’m desperate and destitute when Lockwood Construction rolls into my small town with an offer too good to pass up: high wages to any able-bodied man willing to join their crew.

Say no more. I throw on baggy clothes, tuck my long hair under a baseball hat, and apply for a job. Unfortunately, my half-baked idea of disguising myself as a guy is flawed from the beginning. As Shakira says, these hips don’t lie.

Still, I like to think I might have pulled the whole thing off save for one thing:

I know my boss.

Last month, we met at a bar, and after a fiery first encounter, it seems we’re destined to be sworn enemies.

Ethan Stone is ruthless and arrogant, a man I never would have crossed had I known how much he likes to toy with his prey.

He should just fire me and be done with it. Instead, he decides to make me his personal slave. Oh right, I think they’re calling it personal “assistant” these days.

It’s torture, all of it—his bad attitude, his ruggedly chiseled face, his desire to grind me into dust.

Every one of our friction-filled battles burns hotter than the last.

A girl can only hold out for so long. Soon, I’m bound to go up in flames.

My objective? Survive the heat long enough to send home a paycheck.
My real objective? Stop having X-rated fantasies about my coldhearted boss.

I was issued a warning: stay away from Ben Rosenberg.

As Clifton Cove’s resident “king”, he thinks he’s entitled to anyone and anything.

The trouble is, I’ve spent my whole life following the rules and playing it safe. I know what it feels like to be the good girl. I’m the police chief’s daughter and a librarian—for adorable children, no less. My wardrobe consists of colorful sundresses and baggy jeans. I might as well have a Post-it stuck to my forehead that reads: Yup, she’s a virgin.

An all-nighter with a fictional hunk is about as exciting as my life gets, until one day, fate decides to take pity on me and shove me straight into the path of Mr. Off-Limits himself.

Oof.

Just as I suspected, every inch of him promises to be my demise. Up close, he’s tall, menacing, dangerously handsome—the type of man who’s never spent a single moment worrying about the opinions of others. A well-behaved girl would do as she’s told and avoid him at all costs, but I’m overdue for a little rebellion.

No more Friday nights sprawled out on the couch in my comfiest pajamas. No more wishing I had the courage to misbehave.

Everyone thinks Ben is going to ruin me.
They think he’ll chew me up and spit me out.

Well, Ben…go ahead.
Tempt me. Taunt me.
Make me bad.

Beau Fortier starred in most of my cringe-worthy teenage fantasies.

I met him when I was a junior in high school, a time that revolved exclusively around bad hair, failed forays into flirting, and scientific inquiries into which brand of toilet paper worked best for stuffing bras.

That is, until Beau moved into the small guest house just beyond my bedroom window.

A 24-year-old law student at Tulane, Beau was as mysterious to me as second base (both in baseball and in the bedroom). He was older. Intimidating. Hot. Boys my age had chicken legs and chubby cheeks. Beau had calloused hands and a jaw cut from steel. Our interactions were scarce—mostly involving slight stalking on my end—and yet deep down, I desperately hoped he saw me as more of a potential lover than a lovesick loser.

Turns out, I was fooling myself. My fragile ego learned that lesson the hard way.

Now, ten years later, we’re both back in New Orleans, and guess who suddenly can’t take his eyes off little ol’ me.

My old friend, Mr. Fortier.

But things have changed. I’m older now—poised and confident. My ego wears a bulletproof vest. The butterflies that once filled my stomach have all perished.

When I was a teenager, Beau warned me to guard my heart.

Let’s hope he knows how to guard his.

Everyone in Cedar Creek, Texas, knows Jack McNight is an arrogant devil. Physically, I get it: he’s tan and fit, with coal-black hair that’s clearly been scorched by hellfire. Oh, and his personality? It burns just as hot.

When I show up on the doorstep of Blue Stone Ranch, I’m run-down and rockin’ my last pair of underwear. I’m hoping for a savior, but instead, I find him.

My opinion of Jack is marred by a dismal first impression, but his opinion of me is tainted even before I arrive. He’s heard I’m a spoiled princess there to take advantage of his goodwill. To him, I’m more trouble than I’m worth.

Our button-pushing banter should get under my skin. His arrogance should be a major turn-off. Problem is, devils are known to offer their own form of temptation.

Every one of his steely glares sends a shiver down my spine.

Every steamy encounter leaves me reeling.

Sure, it could be the Texas heat messing with my head, but there’s no way I’ll survive the summer without silencing him with a kiss and wrestling him out of those Wranglers.

Who knows…going to bed with the devil might just be the salvation I’ve been looking for all along.

Dr. Russell has a bad reputation around our hospital. The scrub techs say he’s cold-blooded, the nurses say he’s too cocky for his own good, and the residents say he’s the best surgeon in the world—really, just a swell guy!—on the off chance he’s within earshot.

I try to avoid him and his temper at all costs. It’s just as easy to admire his sexy, grip-it-while-he’s ravishing-you hair and chiseled jaw from a healthy distance, preferably from the other end of the hallway half-hidden behind a plant.

Unfortunately, my plan crumbles when my trusty ol’ boss decides to swap his white coat for a Hawaiian shirt. His retirement leaves me with two terrible options: switch specialties and spend months retraining, or take an open position as Dr. Russell’s surgical assistant.

That means I have to stand near him in the OR for hours on end and anticipate his every need without letting his biting words and bad attitude intimidate me. Oh, and as if that’s not difficult enough, my silly crush on him—the one I’ve tried to stomp on until it disappears—might just be reciprocated.

It’s fine.
I’m fine.

I take my job seriously. There will be no smoldering bedroom eyes across the operating table, no angry almost-kisses in the storage closet. (Well, no more of those.)

What’s the phrase? An apple a day keeps the doctor away?
Maybe I should go for a whole damn bushel.

A full-length STANDALONE romantic comedy from USA TODAY bestselling author R.S. Grey.

“Oh my god. Who is that?”

I get asked this question a lot.

“Oh him?” I reply. “That’s just Ian.”

Just Ian is the biggest understatement of the century. Just the Mona Lisa. Just the Taj Mahal. Just Ian, with his boring ol’ washboard abs and dime-a-dozen dimpled smile.

Just Ian is…just my best friend.

We’re extremely close, stuck so deep inside a Jim-and-Pam-style friendzone everyone at work assumes we’re a couple—that is until one day, word spreads through the teacher’s lounge that he’s single. Fair game. Suddenly, it’s open season on Ian.

He should be reveling in all the newfound attention, but to our mutual surprise, the only attention he seems to want is mine.

He’s turning our formerly innocent nightly chats into X-rated phone calls. Our playful banter sports a new, dangerous edge.

I want to assume he’s playing a prank on me, just pushing my buttons like always—but when Ian lifts me onto the desk in my classroom and slides his hands up my skirt, he doesn’t leave a lot of room for confusion.

I’m a little scared of things going south, of losing my best friend because I can’t keep my hands to myself. So, I’m just going to back away and not return this earth-shattering kiss—oh who am I kidding?!

Goodbye Ian, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal!

Helloooo mister not so nice guy.

NOT SO NICE GUY is a full-length romantic comedy. For a limited time, I've also included an excerpt from my #1 bestseller THE ALLURE OF JULIAN LEFRAY!

At Twin Oaks Country Club, there are the fortunate ones, and then there are the rest of us: the waiters, the caddies, the valets, and in my case, the cabana girls. Most days, I’m poolside in a pleated skirt, dishing out margaritas to tycoons and titans. It’s not exactly my dream job, but it does come with one perk…

James Ashwood.

He’s my silver lining in a custom black suit.

Besides being a legacy member at the club, he’s a tech mogul and Austin’s most eligible bachelor. Oh, and those dimples? Yeah, they make my stomach dip too.

On good days, I catch his sleek Porsche winding down the tree-lined drive. On better days, I steal a glimpse of his handsome profile as we pass in the hall. And on the absolute best day, I find him alone at the bar, looking for company.

“Come have a seat.”

Those four little words set me down a path I never could have imagined. Private planes, penthouse suites, and temptations around every corner make it impossible to keep my distance. His world feels decadent and wild—but overindulgence comes with a cost. Every kiss comes with strings. Every erotic encounter is a promise I’m not ready to keep.

When I pump the brakes, he hits the gas. James doesn’t want to go slow—he wants a commitment.

And the thing about the fortunate ones?

They’re used to getting what they want.

When your life is a hot mess at twenty, it’s cute. At twenty-seven… well, not so much. It’s just that my lofty dreams—making it as a real estate agent, paying rent on time, showering daily—have stayed just that: dreams. Oh, and love? I’ve decided love might be a little ambitious for me at the moment. Instead, I’ve settled for the two guys who will never leave me: Ben & Jerry. That is until Dr. Adam Foxe takes up residence as the town’s new vet. With his strong jaw, easy confidence, and form-fitting scrubs, it’s not long before every housewife in Hamilton is dragging neglected tomcats in for weekly checkups. Like everyone else,…

Lucas Thatcher has always been my enemy. It’s been a decade since I’ve seen him, but our years on opposite coasts were less of a lasting peace and more of a temporary cease-fire. Now that we’re both back in our small town, I know Lucas expects the same old war, but I’ve changed since high school—and from the looks of it, so has he. The arrogant boy who was my teenage rival is now a chiseled doctor armed with intimidating good looks. He is Lucas Thatcher 2.0, the new and improved version I’ll be competing with in the workplace instead of the schoolyard. I’m not worried; I’m a doctor now too, board-certified and sexy in a white coat. It almost feels like winning will be too easy—until Lucas unveils a tactic neither of us has ever used before: sexual warfare. The day he pushes me up against the wall and presses his lips to mine, I can’t help but wonder if he’s filling me with passion or poison. Every fleeting touch is perfect torture. With every stolen kiss, my walls crumble a little more. After all this time, Lucas knows exactly how to strip me of my defenses, but I’m in no hurry to surrender. Knowing thy enemy has never felt so good.

A full-length STANDALONE romance from USA TODAY bestselling author R.S. Grey. When her mother’s incessant matchmaking hits an all-time high, Georgie Archibald does what any sensible woman would do: she flees the country. Seeking refuge in the picturesque seaside village of Vernazza, Italy, Georgie’s only plan is to lie low, gorge herself on gelato, and let the wine and waves wash her troubles away...that is until she wakes up in a bed that belongs to the most romantic-looking man she’s ever seen. Gianluca. After going out of his way to rescue her, the former London financier turned mysterious recluse makes it clear that despite acting as her white knight, he has no plans to co-star in her fairytale. But Georgie isn’t asking for his heart—she’s merely intrigued. After all, Gianluca isn’t just gorgeous—tall and tan from days spent in the sun—his touch sets her world on fire. With him, Georgie experiences the most intoxicating passion she’s ever known, and it only takes a few steamy nights for her to realize that sometimes running away from trouble is the best way to find it.

From the USA TODAY Bestselling author of Scoring Wilder, comes a sexy new standalone novel.


I despise Erik Winter.

He’s arrogant and cruel—a man I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy—and by some twisted turn of fate, he’s my new Olympic gymnastics coach.

I’ve had to contend with gruff coaches in the past, but Erik is far worse. His stern demeanor complements a body built for intimidation, and his reprimands come from a mouth so cunning, I know it could strip me of my defenses—if I let it.

Though each of us would love to be rid of the other forever, we are bound to each other by need and necessity. I’m his rising star, his best shot at proving himself to his critics. And without a coach, I have zero chance of winning gold in Rio.

The easiest way forward would be to wave a white flag and make peace with the man I’ll be sharing close quarters with for the foreseeable future, but he is intent on war.

Fine. By. Me.

If he pushes me, I’ll push back harder. If he wants to test me, to play with my head, I’ll show him just how many boundaries I’m willing to cross. Because I know it’s not a choice between winning or warring—not if you can have them both. At the end of it all, I plan on leaving Rio with gold around my neck and his icy heart in the palm of my hand.

As an Olympic rookie, Andie Foster has spent far more time in her cleats than between the sheets. For 21 years, her Friday nights have consisted of blocking shots rather than taking them. But now that she's landed in Rio, she's ready to see for herself if the rumors about the Olympic Village are true:

• The athletes are all sex-crazed maniacs...
• The committee passes out condoms like candy...
• The games continue long after the medals have been handed out...

As Andie walks the line between rumor and reality, she's forced into the path of Frederick Archibald, a decorated Olympic swimmer and owner of a sexy British accent—too bad he's unavailable in a way that "it's complicated" doesn't even begin to explain.

In other words: off limits.

It doesn't matter that he has abs that could bring peace to the Middle East and a smile that makes even the Queen blush; Andie fully intends on keeping her focus on the soccer field. But the Village is small. Suffocating. Everywhere Andie goes, Freddie happens to be there—shirtless, wet from the pool, and determined to show her a whole new meaning of the phrase "international affairs".

I thought I'd left Blackwater, Texas behind for good. I didn't belong in the small town, but my dad wouldn't listen. He dragged me back home in his beat-up truck and dropped a bomb along the way: Chase Matthews was moving in with us. He was the golden boy of my high school, my former best friend, and the last person I wanted sleeping across the hall. His presence was too great a reminder of the ghosts I was trying to forget. I didn't ask for a hero. I don't want to be saved.

To me, Lilah Calloway meant late nights sneakin' out, moonlit hair, and sparklers in July. She was my best friend until the day she left and I'd assumed Blackwater had seen the last of her. Then, like a tempest, she rolled back into town for the final half of senior year. The chopped hair and dark devil-may-care attitude warned most people away, but I knew if I fought hard enough, I could find the lost girl. I didn't want to be her hero. Some girls don't need to be saved.