Bøger af Penelope Bloom

He keeps himself hidden away from the world in his fancy office.He's a grumpy caveman in a suit.If you do see him, you don't make eye contact.You don't get in his way. You definitely don't cross him.And whatever you do, absolutely do not start to fall for him. Whoopsie. Mr. Untouchable just made the mistake of hiring Ms. Not So Good At Following Rules (that's me). Maybe I should rewind a bit here. just got finished fleeing the ruins of my former life.I picked up everything I owned, drove across the country, and immediately applied for the only job I could find. So, yeah, I need this. I need it badly enough that I'm not going to let some grouchy caveman in a suit scare me off. If I was going to run, it definitely would've been the moment he whipped out an N.D.A. and said the job he's really hiring me for has nothing to do with being his secretary. But curiosity only kills cats, right? If I want to keep this job, it's going to mean getting tangled up with his secrets and all the danger that comes along with them. It's going to mean working too close for comfort with the giant question mark that is my new boss. He's convinced I won't last, but I'm going to enjoy proving him wrong. He thinks I'll run from the challenge, but he has no idea. And he better not think I'll fall for him in the process, because there's no chance. Christian: I don't want her to fall for me, I just want to bring her to her knees.

I'm the girl nobody sees.That is, until I move next door to Parker High's most eligible bastard, Tristan Blackwood.He's gorgeous. Eyes as cold as moonlight. Lips made for cruel kisses. The entire town knows it, too. Apparently being able to throw a football elevates you to god status around here.He could have anything he wanted. Anyone.But somehow, all he wanted was to torment me.Me, trapped in my mom's protective bubble: homeschooled and invisible, stuck in a wheelchair and saddled with more medical issues than I could count. Normal? I might as well wish to be a fairytale princess.There aren't any princesses or knights in my fairytale. Just the dark prince who lives next door. Parker High royalty in the flesh. My very own devil in a letterman jacket. His life should be a dream, but the only thing he cares about is becoming my nightmare.And when my pride isn't enough for him, he decides he wants my body.He wants my heart.He wants every last inch of me to himself.

From USA Today bestselling author of His Banana comes a brand new romantic comedy about a recklessly charming billionaire in need of a fake girlfriend. What do you do when you find out your boyfriend cheated?Throw up on a gorgeous stranger. Obviously. Rock bottom, nice to meet you. Dean Slater-the guy wearing my breakfast-got cheated on, too.We have a perfectly stupid plan to make sure it never happens again. If everyone thinks we're together, we can both stay off the market.No matchmaking friends and family. No more messy breakups. We'll keep things long distance, never be in the same room, and it'll be smooth sailing. Except there's a catch.We're both invited to my sister's wedding.Oh, don't worry, it gets worse. My sister's wedding to my boss. The wedding my whole family is invited to.And guess who else is invited?My new fake boyfriend everybody is thrilled to finally meet in the flesh. To survive, we're going to have to fake it harder than either of us planned. Dirty "fake" kisses, a shared hotel room with a see-through bathroom door, one painfully memorable couple's game later, and things are way past complicated. Real feelings collide with old promises. Our big messy lie threatens to unravel my sister's perfect weekend. And that vow I made to never date again? If it could wear boots, it would be shaking in them. Opposites collide in this hilarious romp of an enemies-to-lovers rom-com. Watch and swoon as the charming playboy slowly realizes his unlikely fake girlfriend may be the perfect match.

I will not think inappropriate thoughts about the nanny.She's just temporary. A momentary blip in my life.Although I have to admit she's quite attractive, as far as blips go.She's also the first person my son has ever actually liked, which has to count for something.New plan: I will not... let myself get too attached to the nanny. I've always been the kind of man to keep my plans flexible. Adaptation is key. Just like I've had to adapt to having a beautiful woman waiting for me when I get home every night. Temporarily, of course.My son deserves better than temporary. And I won't dangle the prospect of a happy, complete family in front of him when I know the relationship wouldn't last.Because beneath the innocent, big doe eyes and the charming awkwardness, the nanny would turn out like the rest. She'd find some reason to leave. They all did. So I'll make one final amendment to the plan. Yes, I may think inappropriate thoughts about the nanny. I may get attached to the nanny. But I will not fall for the nanny.And if I do, I will deny it until my cold, dead heart freezes over. Author's Note: Get out your safety goggles because this fiery nanny and swoon-worthy single dad are about to collide and the reaction is going to be explosive.

You know that instinct to run when something bad is coming?Yeah. I apparently missed out on that one.Because Damon Rose came, and instead of running, I got pregnant. Damon Yes. I remember Chelsea Cross. I remember five years ago when she thought she could handle me. Proving her wrong was... enjoyable. With hair I wanted to fist. A mouth that only stopped when I kissed it. A body that I needed to press against the nearest wall and claim. And now she wants a job.A smart man would say "no".Or, I could teach her the same lesson I taught her five years ago. She can't even begin to handle me. Author's Note: Buckle up for the ultimate grumpy boss in this steamy, workplace romantic comedy with a sassy heroine and a stubborn grump who wants to ruin her day.

His package ended up inside my box. Calm down, perv. My mailbox.As soon as I saw what was inside, I knew two things: It belonged to my hot neighbor, and he had a dirty secret. Normally, I was more of a cat person. As in, if I had to choose who lives, I'm going to take the cat nine times out of ten. It's not that I particularly like cats, I just don't particularly like most people. My neighbor wasn't most people. He lived in the apartment across the hall, and he was your typical, buttoned-up, fancy shoes, smells like a Calvin Klein commercial, looks like he actually flosses kind of guy. I mean, seriously? Wasn't flossing just made up by dentists so they could go on their little power trips once every six months?The point was, this guy very obviously had his life all put together. He was Mr. Perfect, and If you asked me, he needed to be brought down a few pegs to wallow with the rest of us.Cue his long, thick, package penetrating my tight little mailbox.I know. It's absolutely sick. It was such an obvious ploy to hit on me. Forget the fact that the mail lady put it there, my neighbor and I both knew what kind of game he was playing. Oh yeah, we totally knew. It was on. It was in, if you would. I accidentally dropped a knife on the package a few times back in my apartment. It basically sprang open on its own, and I had no choice but to look inside. His dirty little secret was staring me right in the face. As it turned out, Mr. Perfect wasn't so perfect. Who knew?Hint: I knew. And I was absolutely going to enjoy every second of what was coming.

CharliThe dark god of Parker High used to be my childhood friend. But that was before. Before the fire. Before people got hurt. Before I left and came back. Cassian practically drips with danger. He's a shadow made flesh-all beautiful, hard lines and heat. When I left, he was as poor as me. Now his family has enough money to buy the whole town.None of that is enough for him. He still wants me to pay, and humiliating me isn't enough. He wants me to suffer.But if he thinks I'm going to roll over and accept the blame for what happened, he's wrong. I may be scarred. I may be more than a little broken. But all that means is I'm ready for him to bring his worst.CassianIf destruction is an art, then I'm Michelangelo.And Charli's going to be my masterpiece.Her heart is going to be my plaything. Maybe I'll bruise it.Maybe I'll break it.Hell, if she's lucky, I might even take it for myself.

How'd I meet her? Well, a gentleman never brags, Thankfully, I'm no gentleman. First, I paid for her cherry (pie, but that's not the point), Next, I deflowered her. After that? I left my business card and walked out like I owned the place. Yeah, you could say we hit it off. Hailey How did I meet William? He walked into my bakery, bought a cherry pie, stole a vase of flowers-I still have no idea what he wanted with them-and left his business card. Before I say what I did with the business card, I should clarify something: William couldn't have walked into my life at a worse time. My bakery was failing. My creepy ex refused to leave me alone. Oh, and I was a twenty-five-year-old virgin, a fact my friends refused to stop hassling me about. Fixing my little virginity problem with William would be like swatting a fly with a hammer. Overkill, but the best kind. William was stupid hot, the kind of hot that makes women do stupid things. The kind of hot that made me think crazy things. Like thinking the fly wouldn't even mind getting hammered by William and his washboard abs. That makes two of us. So I called him. Maybe it was against my better judgment. Maybe I was stepping into a disaster waiting to happen. I knew I was in trouble when he chuckled in that deep, sexy voice of his over the phone and said, "I'm still craving your cherry. Do you deliver?"

Everything went wrong when I trimmed his bush. And no, it's not what you're thinking. I'm a professional.The client hired me to trim a bush in his garden for a party.I accidentally turned it into something that rhymes with "a big rock and walls".Imagine my surprise when the art world decides it's a masterpiece.Were my raging hormones the cause of my bush sculpting blunder? I mean, who would blame me if they were? After meeting Harry Barnidge for the first time, my brain went straight to cavewoman mode. There were undignified fantasies of being bashed over the head and carried off to a cave, a significant loss of vocabulary, and maybe even a little drooling.But I can't focus on that. On him I need this job to make my little sister's dreams come true. Until now, I've managed to screw everything in my professional and personal life up, but I'm determined to make this work.So when Mr. Heartstopper offers to help me manage my accidental art career, it's impossible to say no.It's like the old saying goes. If you erect it, they will come. Or something like that.HarryI was done with relationships, until her. The new gardener took everything I knew and flipped it upside down. And once I saw her bush? Well, that was when I knew she was something special.Women have tried a lot of things to get my attention, but Nell's bush has to be the boldest method. I mean, there was the direct approach, and then there was turning a ten-foot bush into... that.So of course, I asked her out. And when the biggest art critic in the country declared her bush a work of art, I offered to become her agent... even if my specialty was books.Now I just have to convince her that I want more than our professional relationship. No matter the cost. Even when my biggest rival wants to steal her from under me and threatens to ruin me if I tell the truth about him.

My new boss likes rules, but there's one nobody dares to break... No touching his banana. Seriously. The guy is like a potassium addict. Of course, I touched it. If you want to get technical, I actually put it in my mouth. I chewed it up, too... I even swallowed. I know. Bad, bad, girl. Then I saw him, and believe it or not, choking on a guy's banana does not make the best first impression. I should backtrack a little here. Before I ever touched a billionaire's banana, I got my first real assignment as a business reporter. This wasn't the same old bottom-of-the-barrel assignment I always got. I wasn't going to interview a garbage man about his favorite routes or write a piece on how picking up dog poop from people's yards is the next big thing. Nope. None of the above, thank you very much. This was my big break. My chance to prove I wasn't a bumbling, clumsy, accident-prone walking disaster. I was infiltrating Galleon Enterprises to follow up on suspicions of corruption. Cue the James Bond music. I could do this. All I had to do was land the position as an intern and nail my interview with Bruce Chamberson. Forget the fact that he looked like somebody carved him out of liquid female desire, then sprinkled on some "makes men question their sexuality" for good measure. I needed to make this work. No accidents. No disasters. No clumsiness. All I needed to do was hold it together for less than an hour. Fast forward to the conference room before the interview, and that's where you would find me with a banana in my hand. A banana that literally had his name on it in big, black sharpie. It was a few seconds later when he walked in and caught me yellow-handed. A few seconds after that was when he hired me. Yeah. I know. It didn't seem like a good sign to me, either.

Wall Street Journal bestselling author Penelope Bloom returns with a laugh-out-loud office romance about two sworn enemies who bash heads until sparks fly. For some reason, my new boss has it out to get me.Innocent little me?I'm just a petite, talented, darling little thorn in his side. Okay, my words, not his.But he can't fire me unless I quit-long story.The joke's on him, because I couldn't even quit chewing gum, let alone my dream job. So I thought I had it handled.I could survive the new boss, along with his icy dreamboat eyes and buns of steel (how he got a stick so far up a rear that tight remains a mystery).I could even endure sharing an office with heartless Mr. Heartthrob. Easy. Ish. But then I drunkenly made the challenge that changed everything.I told him I could make an interview with an arrogant jerk like him sell.His answer? Prove it.If I fail, he gets what he wants and I quit. If I succeed, he backs off for good. Even if I'm seeing there's more to him with each interview, the plan is still simple.Nail the story, keep hating the boss, and finally get him off my back.At least it seemed simple until we were eating cheap takeout pizza and watching rom-coms together in his bed. What was that plan again? Write the story, nail the boss, then he gets me on my back? Full-length enemies-to-lovers office romance with laugh-out-loud slow-burn goodness. The bosshole to end all bossholes can't afford to fall for his smart-mouthed, strong-willed employee, but fate has other plans.

I don't usually fang and tell, but she earned an exception.The hapless woman who accidentally released me.The one who nearly got herself killed mere hours later.So I saved her, but my help came with a price.The only way to save her life was to bond her-to link us so powerfully we'd have to spend every waking hour together for the next few weeks.I was ready for the bond, but I wasn't ready for her.Her impossible to crush perky outlook. Her big eyes that never seem to dim, no matter how far into my blackened soul they saw.I thought I'd lost the ability to care centuries ago, but it appears I was wrong.The insufferable woman won't rest until she's forced me to do the unthinkable. To... enjoy her company.It's ridiculous, but all I need to do is outlast the bond.To outlast my growing fear that I'm not as numb as I thought. I'm in danger of feeling something for this human that I can't afford to feel. Because the only thing more dangerous for her than my enemies is if I can't let her go. Author's Note: Get sucked into this high stakes, fang-fest of paranormal, romantic comedy fun with an out-of-his-element vampire grump and the upbeat woman who refuses to let things go according to plan.

The first rule about a casual hookup is to have an exit plan.No strings. No attachments. Get in, get out-euphemism intended.The lesser known second rule?Make sure your casual hookup isn't about to become your wedding planner.Yeah. Long story.The wedding was going to be a fake. The only catch was nobody could know. Not even my wedding planner.Now the wedding planner thinks I'm the world's biggest bastard. She thinks I'm in love with the woman I'm supposed to marry. She thinks a lot of things, but she doesn't know the truth.She's got no idea she's going to fall for me by the time this thing is over.She's got no idea our little hookup wasn't meaningless. Not to me, at least.And worst? She thinks she's safe around me. She thinks I'm off the market, that there can't be a repeat because there's someone else.There's nobody else. Just her. And ever since the first taste, I knew she was all there'd ever be.Author's Note: Don't run away from the ultimate playboy. He's ready to fake marry you so hard . She's sweet and sassy, he's over the top in everything. They're a match made in fake marriage history.

First impression of Landon Collins?Questionable. Highly questionable.He needed to take me to see "The Golden Pecker".Fortunately, it was in the basement, not his pants.Turns out my late grandfather was running a BDSM club.I know what you're thinking. Don't follow a stranger into the basement. More importantly, absolutely don't follow strangers who want to show you their "golden peckers."But I might have literally died of curiosity if I passed this up. Sure, there was a chance of murder, abduction, and all sorts of horror. Then again, living with the endless questions would be its own special kind of hell. What kind of self-respecting man calls it a pecker? And what did all of this have to do with my late grandfather's will?The other problem was I couldn't be sure if Landon Collins was plotting my murder, or if he just had resting hot guy face - broody eyes, a sharp jaw, and full lips made for cruel smiles.Was I ignoring a few dozen red flags? Absolutely. But last time I checked, curiosity was only notorious for killing cats. So I followed his firm ass straight to The Golden Pecker.

¿Que cómo la conocí?A ver, un caballero no alardea.Menos mal que yo no soy un caballero.En primer lugar, pagué por su cereza... (su tarta de cereza, aunque no viene a cuento).Luego la desfloré.¿Después? Le dejé mi tarjeta de visita y salí de allí pavoneándome.Sí, ya ves que lo nuestro fue un flechazo.Hailey:¿Que cómo conocí a William?Entró en mi pastelería, compró una tarta de cereza, robó un jarrón de flores (que sigo saber para qué las quería) y me dejó su tarjeta de visita. Antes de decirte lo que hice con la tarjeta de visita, debería dejar algo claro: William no podía haber aparecido en peor momento. Mi pastelería iba cuesta abajo. El asqueroso de mi ex no me dejaba tranquila. Ah, y era una virgen de veinticinco años, un detalle con el que mis amigos no dejaban de darme la tabarra. Arreglar el problemilla de mi virginidad con William sería como matar moscas a martillazos. Una exageración, pero de las buenas. William estaba tan bueno que no era normal, tan bueno que las mujeres hacían cosas que tampoco eran normales. Tan bueno que me llevó a hacer locuras. Como pensar que a la mosca no le importaría morir a manos del martillo de William y de sus duros abdominales. Y ya somos dos. Así que lo llamé. A lo mejor lo hice en contra del sentido común. A lo mejor estaba a punto de darme un batacazo. Sabía que acababa de meterme en un buen lío cuando soltó una carcajada y dijo con esa voz tan ronca y sensual por teléfono:—Todavía me tienta tu cereza. ¿Haces entregas a domicilio?Penelope Bloom es una autora americana best seller del USA Today, con más de 50 novelas románticas autopublicadas en Amazon. Llega a España con sus novelas estrella Su banana y Su cereza.

A mi nuevo jefe le gustan las reglas, pero hay una que nadie se atreve a romper. Tocarle la banana. En serio. El tío es un adicto al potasio o algo.Si nos ponemos tiquismiquis, la verdad es que me la metí en la boca. Y la mordisqueé... Incluso me la tragué. Lo sé. Soy una chica mala, malísima.Y luego lo vi, y te lo creas o no, atragantarte con la banana de un tío no es la mejor manera de causar una buena impresión.Debería retroceder un poco en el tiempo. Antes de tocar siquiera la banana de un multimillonario, me asignaron mi primer artículo como periodista empresarial. No era el típico artículo de relleno que siempre me endosaban. No iba a entrevistar a un basurero sobre sus rutas preferidas ni a escribir un artículo que contara que recoger las cacas de los perros de los jardines de los demás sería el próximo bombazo.No. De eso nada, monada.Era mi gran oportunidad. Por fin podría demostrar que no era un desastre con patas, torpe y balbuceante. Me iba a infiltrar en Galleon Enterprises para investigar las sospechas de corrupción. Podía hacerlo. Solo tenía que conseguir el puesto de trabajadora en prácticas y bordar la entrevista con Bruce Chamberson.Lo mismo daba que pareciera una estatua sacada de las fantasías y deseos de cualquier mujer, con ese «no sé qué» que lleva a algunos hombres a cuestionarse su propia sexualidad. Necesitaba el puesto. Nada de accidentes. Nada de desastres. Nada de torpezas. Solo tenía que mantener el tipo durante menos de una hora. Demos un salto hacia delante para llegar al momento previo a la entrevista y me verás en la sala de descanso, banana en la mano. Una banana que, literalmente, tenía su nombre escrito con un rotulador permanente negro. Al cabo de unos segundos, entró él y me pilló con las manos en la banana. Al cabo de unos segundos más, me contrató.Penelope Bloom es una autora americana best seller del USA Today, con más de 50 novelas románticas autopublicadas en Amazon. Llega a España con sus novelas estrella Su banana y Su cereza.