Eve Miller is out of options. Between rent, and her sister's medical debts, she's drowning. She needs money, now, and she only has one card left to play. Her virginity. Ian Hunt has specific tastes. The feisty student is perfect. He has to have her. His offer is simple. Six figures. Thirty days. Him introducing her to every kind of pleasure. The British businessman is richer than sin and hotter than hell. He can have any woman he wants. Why her? And why is she desperate to fulfill his every desire?

I’ve always wanted the fairy tale wedding. Not for the princess perfect dress or big party, but for papa. My grandfather. The only father figure I’ve ever known. It’s his dying wish to walk me down the aisle. Gee, no pressure. But I can grant that wish. I just have to fake being head over heels in love with Ross Andrews, my best friend's big brother whom I embarrassingly crushed on all through high school. Handsome. Knockout sexy. Arrogant jerk extraordinaire. Our childish pranks and tit-for-tat battles were legendary.

Logan Crowne needs one year from Ella. Twelve months living in his house, holding his hand, wearing his ring on her finger, and in exchange, she’ll get her father’s company in the divorce settlement. They have one year to convince his skeptical parents that they’re happily in love, and he’s settled enough to run Crowne Industries. Ella wants the company badly enough to live with a man who will never love her. She’ll sleep in his room and kiss him for show.

As kids, they hated each other. Macon Saint was beautiful, but despite his name, Delilah knew he was the devil. That he dated her slightly evil sister, Samantha, was no picnic either. When they broke up, it was a dream come true: Delilah never had to see him again. Ten years later, her old enemy sends a text. Delilah's sister has stolen a valuable heirloom from Macon, now a rising Hollywood star, and he intends to collect his due. One problem: Sam has skipped town.

I’ve finally got feisty Georgina right where I want her. In my bed. In my swimming pool. Strapped into the kinky swing hanging in my home gym. And through it all, Georgina’s clearly becoming more and more physically addicted to me. A junkie in constant need of her next fix. Exactly according to plan. But, to my shock, I’m beginning to think she’s not the only addict here. Any more than she’s the only liar. In fact, as crazy as it sounds, this fiery, relentless woman has been breaking down my walls. 

The beginning of my sophomore year in college was off to a rough start. On the first day of orientation, I had an altercation with an infuriating British dude in a campus bathroom. (The ladies’ room was out of order. So, I used the men’s room. Don’t judge.) I got home later that night and realized that the foreign student we were expecting to rent a room in my parents’ house was allergic to our cat. So, the spare room went to someone else: Caleb - the British guy from the men’s room. And so it began...my love-hate story with Caleb Yates. Or was it hate-love in that order?

I got her fired. Okay, so I’d had a bad day and took it out on a bystander in a pizza shop. But there’s nothing innocent about Ally Morales. She proves that her first day of her new job in my office, after being hired by my mother. So, maybe, her colorful, annoying, inexplicably alluring personality brightens up the magazine’s offices that have felt like a prison for the past year. Maybe, I like that she argues with me in front of the editorial staff. And maybe, my after-hours fantasies are haunted by those brown eyes and that sharp tongue.

Jasmine Lee is screwed. She can barely afford her rent, much less her father’s medical bills. She needs cash - fast - or she’s going to lose her dad. Enter Shepard Marlowe. The tech mogul needs a wife, and he’s willing to pay. A million dollars for a year under his beck and call. Her freedom for her father’s life. It’s a good deal. Even if the Shepard is a beast. Angry, guarded, overbearing...and more irresistible than Prince Charming. How is it possible she craves someone so merciless?

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.  

Reed freaking Rivers. I wouldn’t trust a word out of the arrogant music mogul’s mouth if his gold-plated tongue were notarized. The man with the Midas touch would say anything to get me into his bed, and I know it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want him to succeed. Indeed, the moment I laid eyes on Reed while he was speaking at an on-campus event I’d crashed, my body physically ached to feel his golden fingers - and tongue - all over me.

Hedge fund titan Marcus Carelli knows how to get what he wants, and he’s never wanted anything as much as he does Emma. The cat-loving redhead may have walked out of his life, but he's not about to let her go. Bookstore clerk Emma Walsh has had her heart broken by the ruthless billionaire once, and she's not about to forget it. Marcus can chase her down all he likes, but winning her back is another story. 

He was gorgeous, older and guarded. I knew he was trouble from the moment we locked eyes. We met at work, on my first day as a barista. He smiled, I melted...then he tasted my coffee and threw it away. Again, the next day, and the next. He hated the coffee, yet still came back. I knew his game. He called my coffee death in a cup. I called him god’s gift to women. I wasn’t lying.

Mr. Santillian, Despite the fact I'm currently living out of your guest room and sleeping with you most nights, I am writing to announce my resignation, effective two weeks from today. In other words, I'll locate someone who is both obscenely overqualified and willing to devote their days to the handful of tasks you are able to wrench from your perfectionist, micromanaging grip.

At 35, Marcus Carelli has it all: wealth, power, and the kind of looks that leave women breathless. A self-made billionaire, he heads one of the largest hedge funds on Wall Street and can take down major corporations with a single word. The only thing he’s missing? A wife who’d be as big of an achievement as the billions in his bank account.

I get paid to follow a womanizing troglodyte who thinks rules are for other people and that my pants are the next pair he’s getting into. Bet your first professional job didn’t involve babysitting an extremely hot, muscle-bound Scottish highlander with an ego the size of a kilt and libido bigger than his…well…chicken. Keeping Scottish football (that’s "soccer" to us Americans) player Hamish McCormick away from inappropriate scandals while he does product endorsement campaigns is my mission. No problem. Until Hamish decides I’m his next scandal. And maybe more...