The first time I met Hudson Rothschild was at a wedding. I’d received an unexpected invitation to one of the swankiest venues in the city. Hudson was a groomsman and quite possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. He asked me to dance, and our chemistry was off the charts. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with him, considering the wedding I was at. But our connection was intense, and I was having a great time. Though the fun came to a screeching halt when Hudson figured out I wasn’t who I’d said I was.

There are bad ideas and there are good bad ideas. My former fiancé banging a nanny - that was a bad idea. A good girl having her first ever one-night stand with the hot former bad boy she just met after being dumped? Bad idea. When I find out that the nanny's ex-boyfriend is looking for revenge, I should run - far away. But I don’t...because rebounding with Vince is the most awesome bad idea ever. Do I want to help him get back at our exes in this way? Oh. Hell. Yes. I want him to get back at my ex hard. With wild abandon. All night long.

I didn't know I was that person. You know - the one who gets the kids. But that's what the will said. June Lawler: legal guardian. All my sister's kids have ever known is San Francisco, but I have to take them back to our family's small-town farm. The last thing I'm expecting is the dark car rolling down my dirt driveway. The man who steps out of it is as rich as he is rude, and I want nothing to do with him. Even if my traitor body didn't get the message.

Dear Mr. Vega: I felt it necessary to follow up on today’s meeting, since we weren’t able to speak candidly in front of your son. I was shocked to discover that you are Ryder’s dad. I think it would be best if we just pretend that we met in person for the first time today. Your son is a very bright (flirtatious and talkative) student and since his education is a top priority for both of us, I hope I can count on you to respectfully refrain from grinning at me, using that sexy tone of voice, and undressing me with your annoyingly beautiful brown eyes....

When I was a kid, my dad was the gardener for the richest man in town. His daughter, Lily Barnes, told me she could never like a guy like me. Then she kissed me and told me it would never happen again. When it happened again, she told me she could never love me because she was going to leave this place, and I would never leave my dad. We were never quite friends, not exactly enemies, and we could never quite stop secretly kissing each other. She never said goodbye before running off to try to make it as an actress. That was her dream, and I wanted her to chase it.

He's my business partner, my good friend, and the man I've craved for years. But I've resisted the sexy Brit, and I plan to keep up my walls because I've been there, done that, and I know how much it hurts when you let someone into your heart. Then an opportunity comes along for us to snag the business deal of a lifetime. The catch? We need to pretend we're married to pull off this high-stakes deal. 

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer. After that night, we became friends. He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff. But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer. Until one night we crossed the line.  

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.

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.

My stress level is off the charts. I can’t sleep right on a normal day, and lately my days are filled with the best kind of chaos. My ex-wife and husband number two are filming in Poland for three months, so I’m turning down movie parts to focus on the most important role of my life - impossibly charming and somewhat capable young single dad. Our regular nanny quit. The only person I could trust to hire as a temp nanny is my best friend’s sister. If Mary Poppins and Bill Murray had a baby it would be Willa.

I’d like to preface this by saying it was never my intention to ever get involved in a workplace romance, let alone get involved with the most surly, agitating, and pompous man I’ve ever met who just so happens to be my new friend’s brother. My intentions were to show students how English and reading books could actually be fun and make a new life for myself in the suburbs of Chicago. 

At one point during the party, Alessandra said, “There’s nothing like a girl’s first love.” I knew she was talking about the first smash hit by my band, 22 Goats. Alessandra said it was the first song she’d heard by us and it “hit her like a ton of bricks”. Ironic, seeing as how I was having the same reaction from being in her presence.   

I had a plan to escape the friend zone. Step one: sneak into Reed’s room. Step two: sleep with him. But when the lights turned on, it wasn’t familiar blue eyes I saw. These were dark, angry, and full of demons. And they belonged to Reed’s much-older brother. Four years later, Nash Prescott is no longer the help’s angry son. I’m no longer the town’s prized princess. At 22, I’m broke, in need of a job. At 32, he’s a billionaire, in need of revenge.

It started out like any normal day. Then the fender bender happened. The guy I collided with drove an expensive car and was drop-dead gorgeous. Too bad he was also a total jerk. We argued over whose fault it was and any other thing that came out of his condescending mouth. Eventually, the police came and we went our separate ways. The insurance companies would have to figure things out. I had a job interview to get to anyway - one I was excited about. Though that excitement changed to disappointment the moment the person interviewing me walked in. The guy from the accident.