Bøker av Marika Ray

He's a dashing millionaire who thinks everything in life is one big joke, probably because he bathes in piles of money each morning. He's also my new neighbor, and after a humiliating experience in the cemetery that is my backyard, he becomes my shadow, showing up everywhere just to annoy me.I'm not a fan of happy people. They bother me with their constant grins and rainbows coming out of their ears, and Vander Booth is the king of smiles. Despite my efforts to scare him away with both my profession as an undertaker and my general need for frowning through most of my workday, he sticks around like a bad case of poison ivy.He is gorgeous though. I'll give him that. And when I see the way he coordinates outfits with his grandma just to make her happy, I'll admit my biological clock starts ticking. Add in his fear of real human connections and suddenly I find myself cheering for the guy instead of plotting his death.Though opposites can attract-and boy is my black lipstick attracted to his glow-in-the-dark smile-they don't stay together long-term. And they certainly can't co-exist when they're fighting constantly in a knock-down, drag-out competition for the same piece of land for their business venture. Or can they? Cue ominous organ music...

He's a giant of a man who grunts for words and barks out orders, yet circumstances require I be his fake girlfriend and spend the weekend with him in an isolated cabin. And of course there's only one bed. Just my luck...But I need this commission check that only Boston can guarantee me. So I hike up the mountain 'til I can't feel my legs, eat questionable canned beans for sustenance, and vow to simply ignore him for two days. What I didn't count on was a freak blizzard to lock us in the cabin for a bit longer. I also didn't expect to discover that beneath all those muscles and long hair and smoldery looks, Boston has a soft heart and a sad past that makes me itch to fix it. And of course we have to snuggle to preserve body heat. My luck is turning...We find more-ahem-creative ways to pass the time, and holy snowstorm is Boston creative! We both know this charade ends when we get off the mountain, so we use our time together wisely.Turns out there's one final twist: he's my best friend's estranged brother. Yep, my luck has officially run out...

He's a giant of a man who grunts for words and barks out orders, yet circumstances require I be his fake girlfriend and spend the weekend with him in an isolated cabin. And of course there's only one bed. Just my luck...But I need this commission check that only Boston can guarantee me. So I hike up the mountain 'til I can't feel my legs, eat questionable canned beans for sustenance, and vow to simply ignore him for two days. What I didn't count on was a freak blizzard to lock us in the cabin for a bit longer. I also didn't expect to discover that beneath all those muscles and long hair and smoldery looks, Boston has a soft heart and a sad past that makes me itch to fix it. And of course we have to snuggle to preserve body heat. My luck is turning...We find more-ahem-creative ways to pass the time, and holy snowstorm is Boston creative! We both know this charade ends when we get off the mountain, so we use our time together wisely.Turns out there's one final twist: he's my best friend's estranged brother. Yep, my luck has officially run out...

My country music career is going downhill fast, and my very public breakup isn't helping. All I want is to hide away at a cozy ski lodge this Christmas, avoid anything festive, and figure out what to do with my life. Is that so much to ask?Aksel Lund is a modern-day Viking who should be gracing magazine covers with his smoldery frown, not running the Havenkirk Ski Lodge like a tyrant. Unbeknownst to me, this map-dot town in Idaho doesn't have a spa or know how to be chill about Christmas. Aksel's eight-year-old daughter drags me to every single Snowmass celebration because I don't have the heart to tell her no. Her grinch of a father though? He has no heart. When he's not criticizing my music, or saving me from hurtling down the slopes, or arguing with me over my excessive luggage-it's only five suitcases, calm down-he's dodging my questions about why he's a single dad and who keeps calling about his debts.I may be a celebrity- which basically makes me a scrooge in his eyes-but I know a thing or two about hard times. And it looks like Havenkirk will be sold to some rich developer the minute the tinsel comes down. If only Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding would let me help save the lodge.And if only Aksel didn't make my heart twist painfully in my chest and leave me panting whenever he turns that glower on me. If only I truly loved the season and could pull a Christmas miracle out of my guitar. Turns out a miracle is what I need to get Aksel out of my heart, too.

He's a hot, shirtless hockey player... and he's my fake date for my ex-husband's wedding. Talk about a hot flash to beat all hot flashes.The wedding bells are ringing and my ex-husband is the groom! When my grown kids hook me up with a fake date to my ex-hubby's tropical island nuptials, I expect sun, sand, and plenty of fruity cocktails - not steamy nights with a shirtless pro hockey player! Roman might be all swagger on the ice, but this growly, egotistical male model of perfection has a soft side too. While I battle dresses made for twenty-somethings, awkward run-ins with my ex, and unwelcome hot flashes, Roman is there to distract me with flirty compliments, stay up late with me when I can't sleep, and make me feel vibrant and ageless.As good as it feels, none of this is real, and Roman is way out of my league. Who's going to believe this gorgeous, famous, muscle-bound athlete would ever date a scatterbrained, hot-flashing, insomniac nerd with twenty stubborn extra pounds around the middle?But as the big day approaches, we grow closer. Wedding activities lead to beach walks at sunset, and his oh-so-talented fingers twist my hormones up in a whole new way. Gazing into Roman's eyes, I start to wonder if he could be my shot at a real happily ever after.That's the thing about vacations, though; at some point, you need to return to reality.