When Clementine Avery swore off men, she had no idea she'd need real life experience for that romance writing class she accidentally signed up for last spring. Fortunately, sexy RA Gavin Murphy offers to help her find a little inspiration . . . in the name of academics, of course.

What the hell do I know about raising a baby? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Yet here I am, the sole guardian of my niece. I'd be lost if it weren't for Katherine, the beautiful girl who seems to have all the answers. Katherine, who's slowly finding her way into my cynical heart. I keep reminding myself that I can't fall for someone when we don't have a future. But telling myself this lie and believing it are two different things.

What's worse than having Rider Kingston, the star quarterback, give you the big brushoff because he doesn't want to get serious? You'd probably think living across the street from him where you get a firsthand view of his hookups, right? That's what I thought. Until someone drops off a baby with a note pinned to her blanket that says one of those jocks - either Rider or one of his roommates - is the father. The problem? Baby mama doesn't mention which of these numbskulls is the sperm donor. I wouldn't care about their paternity problems - except my brother lives there too.

There’s a fine line between lust and hate. I don’t care that Drew Merritt spent the last year transforming himself from grungy slob to sexy playboy. With messy, dirty blond hair and gorgeous eyes, his looks aren’t the problem. His mouth is. And the stupid things that come out of it. But after an emergency strands us together, and he does his damnedest to take care of me.... Let’s just say there’s one thing we don’t clash on. And it doesn’t involve talking.

You know how people say you can never believe what you read on the interwebs? That a hot guy online is probably a creeper with a beer gut and a shoe fetish, not the sexy beast he pretends to be? So I had no clue that the anonymous blogger who contacted my law firm about his naughty website would be droolworthy in real life. Not that I'm interested in him in that way. Attorneys can't go around sleeping with their clients. Not even if he is the most beautiful man I've ever met and so ridiculously smart he makes my nerdy-girl heart sigh.

There are three things you need to know about Elizabeth Bennett: She's smart as a whip, always in control, and lives by a set of carefully crafted rules. She's learned the hard way that people you love the most always hurt you in the end. But then she meets Declan Blay, the new neighbor at her apartment complex. A tattooed British street fighter, he's the campus bad boy she's supposed to avoid, but when he saves her from a frat party gone bad, all her rules about sex and love fly out the window.

I should have known I was in trouble when I backed my old, beat-up truck into the shiny Range Rover. The driver looked like a gorgeous fallen angel–one who’d been booted right out of paradise for being a giant prick. Good thing I’ll never have to see him again.

It was supposed to be the best day of my life. But the second I got up, things started to fall apart. The kitchen just caught on fire. Flowers were from a funeral. My bride-to-be just had an allergic reaction, leaving by ambulance. Oh, and my ex-girlfriend just walked into the church. They say you have to see the signs when they are right in front of you. Maybe she was just mine to have.

He's back. Not just back in town, but living in the flat right beneath mine. And he looks good enough to eat, which is just one more reason to stay away from him. But I can't resist. The sex is incredible (pretty sure we've shaken the house right off its foundation), but he can't fool me - not this time. A degree in marketing and five years in advertising have taught me that "true love" is a fairy tale used to sell lipstick, diamonds, and perfume. It doesn't exist. He thinks I'm wrong, and he wants to prove it. I think he's crazy, so I dare him to try.

I don’t want you. You mean nothing to me. I never loved you. I turned my words into swords. And I cut her down. Shoved the blade in and watched her fall. I said I’d never hurt her and I did. Years later I’m faced with all the little lies, the untruths, the false realities, the damage I inflicted when all I wanted was to indulge in my obsession. Lavender Waters is the princess in the tower. Even her name is the thing fairy tales are made of. I used to be the one who saved her. Over and over again.

I didn’t know bridesmaid was code for babysitter for the bride’s brother, but if that’s what my best friend needs of me for her dream wedding to go off without a hitch, that’s what I’ll do. Even if Theo Monroe has been a pain in my rear since third grade. Even if he should be responsible enough to not wreak havoc at his sister’s destination wedding.

Emmett Lasker is impossible to work for. He might be model handsome and stupidly wealthy, but he also has it out for me. He’s given me more last-minute and weekend requests than anyone else, ruining any plans I make. I should quit. And I will. Just as soon as I hit my two-year anniversary and earn out my signing bonus. But after a particularly awful day at work, a breakup (via text!), and my computer crashing, I’ve had enough! So at 11:59 Friday night, I barge into Emmett’s office to tell him what I really think of him. Only, that’s not what happens. AT ALL.

Football star. Single dad. And once, a long time ago, mine. I’ve spent the better part of a decade forgetting Ford Ellis. If he had just stayed away from Montana, I might have erased the memory of his striking blue eyes and rugged smile forever. Avoiding him was easy when the only place I saw his face was on ESPN—and a remote control could fix that problem.

Vince Jennings has had two loves in his life. Music and Bristol Matthews. His guitar skills catapult him to stardom with the most popular rock band on earth. But it takes walking away from Bristol—his first love—to make this happen. Despite the groupies, the success, the fun, life under the bright glare of fame and fortune isn’t enough. Deep, dark pain threatens to derail all he’s worked for, until fate brings her back into his life.

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.

When Clementine Avery swore off men, she had no idea she'd need real life experience for that romance writing class she accidentally signed up for last spring. Fortunately, sexy RA Gavin Murphy offers to help her find a little inspiration . . . in the name of academics, of course.

You know how people say you can never believe what you read on the interwebs? That a hot guy online is probably a creeper with a beer gut and a shoe fetish, not the sexy beast he pretends to be? So I had no clue that the anonymous blogger who contacted my law firm about his naughty website would be droolworthy in real life. Not that I'm interested in him in that way. Attorneys can't go around sleeping with their clients. Not even if he is the most beautiful man I've ever met and so ridiculously smart he makes my nerdy-girl heart sigh.

What the hell do I know about raising a baby? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Yet here I am, the sole guardian of my niece. I'd be lost if it weren't for Katherine, the beautiful girl who seems to have all the answers. Katherine, who's slowly finding her way into my cynical heart. I keep reminding myself that I can't fall for someone when we don't have a future. But telling myself this lie and believing it are two different things.

What's worse than having Rider Kingston, the star quarterback, give you the big brushoff because he doesn't want to get serious? You'd probably think living across the street from him where you get a firsthand view of his hookups, right? That's what I thought. Until someone drops off a baby with a note pinned to her blanket that says one of those jocks - either Rider or one of his roommates - is the father. The problem? Baby mama doesn't mention which of these numbskulls is the sperm donor. I wouldn't care about their paternity problems - except my brother lives there too.

It started as a normal birthday celebration. Was there wine? Of course. Did I let loose with my best friends? Absolutely. Did I have one glass too many and follow a tattooed bad boy into a bar? Cue mortification. I don't do reckless, or wild nights of hot sex. Correction: I didn't used to. I also didn't plan to drunk-email my boss and quit my soul-sucking job, leaving me in a financial mess. But I'm churning those lemons into lemonade! I'm chasing my dream job at San Francisco's hottest restaurant. Guess who shows up as my competition? None other than my tattooed bad decision.