Calling all rom com lovers—this collection features four full-length stand-alone novels by New York Times best-selling author Kendall Ryan in one complete volume.

Love Machine

She says she needs some help...in the bedroom.
Come again? No, really come again.
Sweet, nerdy, lovable Keaton.
She's my best friend and has been for years. Sure she likes numbers and math, and thinks doing other people's taxes is fun. And I like...none of that stuff. She's obsessed with her cat and reads novels I'll never understand, and yet we just click. There's no one I'd rather share breakfast burritos with or binge watch hours of Netflix. She's my person. And so when she takes off her glasses and asks me to help her improve her skills in the bedroom, I barely have to think about it.
Of course I'll help her. There's no one better for the job.
I've been there for her through everything, why should this be any different?
But what happens when she's ready to take her new-found confidence and move on?

Mister Tonight
Last night was the most embarrassing night of my life.
I was that girl.
You know, the highly intoxicated chick celebrating her 30th birthday with her two best friends—who are happily married. And the more I drank, the more I wanted to do something reckless to celebrate.
By reckless, I mean the sexy and alluring man dressed in a business suit standing near the bar. You know his type—tall, dark, handsome. I was sure he was out of my league, but I’d had just enough alcohol that things like that no longer seemed to matter. I’m not fat, mind you, but you can tell I like french fries, so there’s that.
He took me home, and I enjoyed the hottest birthday sex of my life. Well, until it came to a screeching and rather unwelcome halt.
There’s nothing quite like being interrupted mid-ride with a little voice asking, “What are you doing to my daddy?”
Just kill me now...or so I thought.
Come to find out, the man I rode like a bull at the rodeo is my new landlord.

Baby Daddy
We met in a trapped elevator.
Emmett was on his way to work, sophisticated and handsome in his tailored suit and tie.
I was on my way to the sperm bank. Awkward, right?
At 35, my life hadn’t taken the path I thought it would and I was tired of waiting—I wanted a baby. And I was ready to take matters into my own hands to make it happen.
After our ill-fated elevator encounter, Emmett insisted on taking me to dinner—he also insisted on something else—that I ditch my plan involving a turkey baster and let him do the job. He would be my baby daddy. He was a wealthy and powerful CEO with little interest in diapers or playdates. And since he didn’t want kids, I’d be on my own once his bun was in my oven, free to go my own way.
But once his baby was inside me, it was like a switch had been flipped, and I got a whole lot more than I ever bargained for.

Screwed
I have one rule: Don’t shit where you eat.
Several of the women in the condo complex I own would love some one-on-one playtime, and why wouldn’t they? I’m young, fit, attractive, and loaded. Not to mention I’m packing a sizable bulge below the belt. It’s a combination that drops panties on a regular basis.
Yay, me, right?
But my cock, troublemaker that he is, has been confined to my trousers by my business partner.