A sexy cinnamon-roll lumberjack offers me a ride into town, a stay at his cozy cabin, and eventually his bed. All things I can't refuse. After several flirty glances and heated mistletoe kisses, we create rules: no strings attached and no falling in love. Agreeing to the impossible might be my biggest mistake yet. I visited the small town for one reason only: to prove a point to my father. Now I've got a fake boyfriend.

The brokenhearted billionaire visits Cozy Creek to escape. I never expected to become his fake girlfriend or fall madly in love... but here we are. My first impression of Zane Alexander isn't great. The second is worse, but when he uses his powers of persuasion to get me to hang out with him, I can't say no. We quickly go from familiar strangers to flirty friends. When my ex returns, Zane flawlessly pretends to be my boyfriend to protect me. He's so damn good at it, I almost believe it.

When Beckett decides he’s also interested in purchasing the Horseshoe Creek Ranch, my dreams of owning a bed-and-breakfast become a nightmare. He refuses to give me what I want while playing dirty—a common theme in our rivalry. Because of him, we’re in a ridiculous bidding war for the land. We might have hated each other since our teens, but the stakes have never been so high. And right now, I’m more determined than ever to take down my best friend’s older brother—cowboy boots and all.

When Grayson Nash walks into the bar, he has no idea I'm little Ava Maxwell, the one he promised to look after when he moved to Vegas. After a sizzling, sheet-clutching first experience of my dreams, we exchange numbers and a plan to extend our undeniable connection into something more. I promise myself I'll tell him the truth about who I am… eventually. He finds out before I tell him, and he wants nothing to do with me. But when my ex won't take the hint, Grayson swoops in pretending to be my new boyfriend.

Easton Calloway needs a wifey, pronto, and he chooses me to temporarily fill the position. While I want to tell him to eff off, I can't walk away from the temptation. So, I do what any broke actress living in New York City would do, and I agree to the terms and conditions. It should be easy: a year of marriage, a cushy penthouse in the city, and a spending allowance. After three hundred sixty-five days, I'll receive divorce papers and a check in the mail. All I have to do is pretend we're happily married without falling in love.