Showing results by author "Gigi Blume" in All Categories

Coming back to my hometown wasn’t part of my Christmas game plan. Neither was coaching my old high school’s hockey team or crossing paths with Colette McAllister, the Ice Queen of Brooking Sound. Back in high school, she was my biggest crush—and my brother’s biggest fan. Now, she’s all sharp glares, sarcastic quips, and a refusal to admit how much fun she’s having making my life miserable. But when my buddy Tucker bets I can’t get Colette to go on a date and kiss me under the mistletoe by Christmas Eve, I can’t resist.

Getting hitched to the guy who walked out on me in the middle of a hookup wasn’t on my bingo card, but here we are. Sawyer O’Malley is bad news. He told me so. But when you sneak off with a guy like Sawyer at your best friend’s wedding, bad feels kind of good. Until he ghosts you. I made a point to avoid him after that. But somehow I find myself in the middle of his viral social media screw-up. Do I care if he got himself into a pickle and needs a wife? No. I don’t do second chances. But my credit is shot and I need a place to crash until I get back on my feet.

I've never met a challenge I couldn't deke out—until Emily Brooks blasted into my world with all the subtlety of a slapshot to the face. When an underwear incident (don’t ask) gives Emily ammunition for her gossip blog Blades After Dark, I’ve become her very reluctant muse. Perched on her Zamboni with a crafty smirk on that gorgeous face, she’s determined to turn my life into one big penalty box. Not only does this woman have an Olympic-sized grudge against me, she cheered—yes, cheered—for the other team. When I find out she has a secret she doesn’t want out, it’s gloves off.

Ignacio: That girl everyone saw me fake kissing is not my girlfriend. Somehow, a small favor turns into a recipe for disaster, and the only way to fix it is to add a little spice, let it simmer, and serve it hot. We might be cooking up a fake relationship, but even pretend kissing Olive is muy delicioso.

The pitchforks are out again. Shocker, I know. This time, it’s not just the paparazzi or trolls on social media. Sigh. It’s my ex. And my dad. And even my new limo driver, Enrique. But wait a minute, what's this? Enrique is a total hottie—with eyes black as sin, swagger for days, and dimples that could melt a girl's heart. And...he hates me.