The trouble is Sloane is smack dab next to me from nine to freaking five. And she's as captivating, brilliant, and sexy as ever, which means I'm taking more than the recommended dosage of office romance temptation every day. Make that every single second, because she's not only "the one" - she's the one who got away. 

As the premier best-man-for hire in all of Manhattan, I promise discretion, so when I need a plus one for a couple of "I dos", I turn to my gorgeous, clever, witty best friend’s sister. She’s my good friend, too, and I lust after her completely. I mean, I trust her completely. After all, just look how she’s kept her lips sealed about the hot, multi-O night we spent together. Yes, just look at those sexy lips. In any case, we only fell off the wagon once, and it was months ago. I’m sure we can make it through these weddings without banging each other in the limo. Or can we?

Every bartender should follow one simple rule - don't go home with the customers. That’s been easy for me to stick to, until the night a cocky, confident, and sinfully charming hockey star walks into my bar. This sexy athlete is too hard to resist, especially when he makes it clear how much he wants the “sarcastic, witty, hot AF” guy behind the bar - also known as me. Still, I’m not keen on breaking my own rules since I know where that can lead - no place good.   

Top three reasons why sleeping with the enemy is a bad idea.... She's my fiercest rival. She's also my fiery ex. We're going up against each other in a stiff competition to win the hottest new client on the market. And yet, I'd like to be up against the wall in a stiff competition to get her to call out my name. Time to double down on my resistance to her tough-as-nails, take-no-prisoners, sexy-as-sin attitude. The same attitude I find irresistible.

Indulge in the first ever collection of all four standalone romances in the Caught Up In Love series, with narration from Sebastian York, Andi Arndt, Joe Arden, Zachary Webber, Vanessa Edwin and Emma Wilder!

Once upon a time, a sexy, charming, hot British guy walked into my bar. He was flirty and delicious, and we hit it off right away. So well in fact that I'd have given him my number. Except, fate decided to play a trick on me. Since the guy turned out to be my brother's best friend, he was off limits. So, we made a pact to be just friends. And we became great friends. It worked for a while. Until the night we were snowed in....

All I want for the holidays is the willpower to resist my brother’s sexy, charming, easy-on-the-eyes new business partner. Instead, I'm stuck planning all the holiday parties with the one guy who makes me want to break my dating diet. Who thought that was a good idea? Oh, me. Yep, brilliant, strategic me who raised her hand and said yes I’d love to hang mistletoe with that hot former sports star. (Note to self: Mistletoe leads to toe-curling, knee-weakening kisses.)

I was only trying to help a friend. I swear. I was legit asking for a friend who was finally ready to date again. So I did what any good friend would do. Posted it for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time - I’d weed through the candidates, and bring her my top picks. But then he responded. Is it wrong to date the guy I screened for my bestie? Not asking for a friend.

Never Have I Ever been so infuriated by a man I wanted to kiss. They say opposites attract, but I beg to differ. Combust is more like it. Because every single time I talk to Zach Nolan, I see red. The too-good-looking, too-smart, too-effortlessly-charming single dad who works down the hall from me has turned getting under my skin into a sport. Call it the battle of wits between the wedding planner and the divorce attorney. Trouble is, when we’re forced into closer quarters, planning an engagement party for our best friends, I start to see his other sides....

That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star? Turns out he’s my son’s new music teacher. The night I met Campbell all I knew was he played my body the same way he strummed a guitar — like he owned it. Now I’ve learned he’s the man coming to my house twice a week to teach my kid — the best music lessons money can buy. Time to turn down the volume on the late-night shenanigans with the sexy single dad. Only that’s easier said than done....

The second the test-the-sexy-scenes offer landed in my lap, I said yes. After all, I've been damn curious about a few things I've read in romance novels. Do buttons truly go flying across the floor when you rip off a guy's shirt? Is staircase nookie hella hot, or does it leave you with a big old bruise mark on your back? And don’t even get me started on all that panty shredding, and whether it even works. Time to find out as I embark on Project Sexy Scenes Research, at the request of my hotshot book editor bestie. All I need is a willing scene partner.

When the invitation arrived, it detailed the rules of the masquerade - no names, no identities. I set one more - find a most wicked man for one night. The kind who'll bring me deliciously naughty pleasure in dark corners. But as the clock ticks to midnight, he finds me, whisks me away to a secret alcove, and delivers all that dirty bliss and then some. We make arrangements for another secret rendezvous before I rush out of the ball. But fate has other plans, since I see my most wicked man the next morning. 

One night only - that was the deal we made. But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another. Until I walked into the office to learn he just bought my company. 

I first met Tristan Miles at a meeting where he was trying to take over my late husband’s company. He was powerful, arrogant, and infuriatingly gorgeous, and I hated him with every cell in my body. In the shock of the century, he called me three days later and asked me on a date. I would rather die than date a man like him - though I do have to admit it was good for the ego. Turning him down was the highlight of my year.

Let me list the reasons why dating the sexy, charming pro hockey star is a bad idea: He’s one of my closest friends. All our friends are friends. The wounds I’ve got from past relationships go deep. And so do his. We’re both devoutly single - it’s just safer for the heart that way. But there’s no reason not to bid on the gorgeous, clever athlete at the charity auction this weekend. If I win, it’ll be a "friendsdate".