Showing results by author "Misha Bell" in All Categories

A cactus-loving botanist, an Ancient Rome-obsessed grumpy billionaire, and a demonic Persian cat walk into an elevator... and almost don't make it out. One humiliating rescue later, Juno has lost her chance at the perfect plant care job, and a well-timed paparazzi photo has the world—and Lucius' ecstatic grandmother—convinced that he's finally found "the one." For a hefty sum, Juno agrees to act as Lucius' girlfriend to keep Gram happy and the billionaire groupies at bay. They both agree to keep their hands to themselves. But along come those pesky feelings...

Yes, I know it's not the 1800s. I'm just a bit obsessed with historical romance, that's all. And books in general, which is why I'm on my way to interview for my dream job at the library when Adrian Westfield's sheep-like hound knocks me over and into the mud. So I'm late, dirty, and completely flub my interview—only to get the offer of my life.

Thanks to my needy pet rat, I’m banned from working at all Florida theme parks. So what’s a person to do? Get a job as a mascot for a local hockey team, of course. I didn’t expect to get pushed into a pool on my first day by the grouchiest, hottest player on the team. Nor could I have imagined that we’d get locked into an evacuated building together and share an angry kiss that would get caught on video. Or that said video would go viral, sending ticket sales for our games through the roof.

When I'm late for a job interview and get stuck on an elevator with an annoyingly sexy, ancient-Rome-obsessed grump, the last thing I expect is for him to be the billionaire owner of the building. I also don't expect to almost kill him...accidentally, of course.

My new assignment at work: Test out toys. Yup, that kind. Well, technically, it’s to test the app that controls the toys remotely. One problem? The showgirl who’s supposed to test the hardware (as in, the actual toys) joins a nunnery. Another problem? This project is important to my Russian boss, the broody, mouthwateringly sexy Vlad, a.k.a. the Impaler. There’s only one solution: Test both the software and the hardware myself...with his help.

My new assignment at work: test out toys. Yup, that kind. But when the testing goes south, and I mean that literally, I’m forced to recruit the help of my new boss, the infamously reclusive and devastatingly sexy Vlad Chortsky, a.k.a. the Impaler. Testing toys with your scorching hot boss is still professional...right?

Unexpectedly becoming an heiress should've made all my problems go away, but instead, I have three new, huge ones: two giant tortoises and a lean, mean two-hundred-pound hockey player named Mason. He's as hot as he is insufferable, and he would've made a fine Viking if he hadn't been born in the wrong century. He wants to buy my hockey team, won't take no for an answer, and is willing to do anything to get his way… no matter how dirty he has to play.

An overworked single mom from New York City. A billionaire surfer from Florida. Can the turn of the tide bring these two together?

An opportunity to tell off the billionaire whose bank took my childhood home? Yes, please! The greedy, arrogant jerk thinks I’m here to interview for the job of his dog trainer (a.k.a. nanny), but he’s got a big storm coming.

My grandparents’ grumpy neighbor is as hot as the lethal Florida sun. And like the sun, he’s bad for me. My taste in men is the worst - just ask my ex and his restraining order. What am I doing in Florida with my grandparents, you wonder? Well, my best friend is an octopus, and he needs a bigger tank. So, I took a job at an aquarium in the Sunshine State. I didn’t expect that sexy, long-haired grump to make out with me during a late-night swim at the beach. And the last thing I expected was to run into him on my first day, at my new job, where he’s my boss.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Or does it? Okay, let me explain. I broke into my crush’s dressing room to sniff his tights (not in a pervy way, I swear!) and got busted while, um... you get the idea. He then kind of, sort of blackmailed me into agreeing to a fake green card marriage with him. But hey, I’m not complaining. Next thing I know, we’re on a flight to Vegas to make our friends and family think we had a crazy drunken night and, in the spur of the moment, tied the knot. Except… that’s exactly what happens.

So, my Chihuahua fell in love with a bear. Excuse me, a giant, bear-like dog. Now, the bear’s scorching hot owner is on my case, demanding an STD test...for my pet. Another problem with this doggy love affair? The bear’s mysterious owner may be the key to funding my new venture and taking my toys company to the next level. And by “toys", I mean the fun kind, the kind every woman (and man) needs. If only I could figure out what he’s hiding - or get my libido to behave. Because mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea, and Dragomir Lamian may not be who he seems.

Honey Hyman (do not call her "hon") is all leather, piercings, and tattoos. And yes, she may be just a tad deal-obsessed, but who isn't? It’s not like her using coupons is stealing from anyone...unless, of course, those coupons are the fakes she created to help her elderly neighbors afford groceries from the Munch & Crunch, the uber-expensive supermarket that's replaced their local grocery store.

A daredevil prince wants to pay me mega-bucks to train him to hold his breath underwater for 10 minutes? Sign me up. Except I’m a magician, not a stunt consultant. My record-beating dive without air was a trick. Of course, I can’t tell that to my client, the royally hot Anatolio Cezaroff, a.k.a. Tigger. Not if I want to be able to pay my rent. Also, I’m not exactly comfortable around germs. All germs, including those lurking on uber-attractive men. So falling for my gorgeous client is out of the question, and I fully intend to keep my distance.

What image does Venus draw to your mind? A great planetary body of deadly gases neighboring Earth, existing as its own world, mysterious and alluring? Or an image of a more fantastical nature, such as the jungles described by Edgar Rice Burroughs? Or do you think, perhaps, of a goddess who holds power and beauty beyond measure, whose name, throughout the ages, has been synonymous with love? Within this book, you will find tales of wonder, some of space, some of the heart, some that follow in the footsteps of the goddess herself.

My name is Blue - insert a mood-related joke here - and I’m a femme fatale in training. My goal is to join the CIA. Unfortunately, I have a tiny issue with birds, and the closest I’ve come to my dream is working for a government agency that’s disturbingly up-to-speed on everyone’s sexts, rants in private Facebook groups, and secret family chocolate-chip cookie recipes.

My name is Holly Hyman. I love order and prime numbers - and I’m in trouble. The company I work for is pivoting, and not in a way I like. Our new management? Alex Chortsky, a gorgeous, scruffy Russian devil. Our new direction? VR entertainment of the spicy kind. Maybe I wouldn’t mind it so much if my life’s work wasn’t meant for children. Or if I hadn’t accidentally hooked up with a VR version of my wickedly handsome boss. The only way to save my dream project is to make a Faustian bargain. For one night, I pretend to be Alex Chortsky’s girlfriend.

Ja, ich weiß, es ist nicht das 18. Jahrhundert. Ich bin nur ein wenig besessen von historischen Liebesromanen, das ist alles. Und von Büchern im Allgemeinen. Deshalb bin ich auf dem Weg zu einem Vorstellungsgespräch für meinen Traumjob in der Bibliothek, als Adrian Westfields schafähnlicher Hund mich umwirft und ich im Schlamm lande. Ich komme also zu spät, bin schmutzig und verpatze mein Vorstellungsgespräch – nur um dann das Angebot meines Lebens zu bekommen.

Mein Name ist Blue—fügen Sie hier einen Witz über Alkohol ein—und ich bin eine Femme fatale in Ausbildung. Mein Ziel ist es, der CIA beizutreten. Leider habe ich ein winziges Problem mit Vögeln, und das, was meinem Traum am nächsten kommt, ist die Arbeit für eine Regierungsbehörde, die auf beunruhigende Weise über jedermanns Sex-SMS, Wutausbrüchen in privaten Facebook-Gruppen und geheime Schokoladenkeksrezepte der Familie auf dem Laufenden ist.

Ein spunkiger Prinz will mich dafür bezahlen, dass ich ihm beibringe, wie man unter Wasser zehn Minuten lang die Luft anhält? Ich bin dabei. Aber ich bin ein Zauberer, kein Stuntberater. Mein rekordverdächtiger Tauchgang ohne Luft war ein Trick. Das kann ich meinem Mandanten natürlich nicht antun. Nicht, wenn ich meine Miete bezahlen will. Und mich in meine hinreißende Klientin zu verlieben kommt nicht in Frage, also bin ich entschlossen, Abstand zu halten. Zumindest, bis er mir anbietet, mich im Bett zu trainieren.