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.

The first time I met Merrick Crawford was during my job interview. Well, technically, I’d met him 20 minutes earlier when he’d barged into a fitting room a few doors down from my appointment. I yelled. He yelled. After an argument while standing in my bra, I proceeded to smash the door into the gorgeous jerk, trying to yank it shut. As you might imagine, I was freaked out when I discovered that the rude guy was my potential new boss. Yet he didn’t seem to recognize me. Or so I thought.... Until we wound up bickering again during my interview and he told me to go sniff my armpit.

Two years ago, I had a one-night stand with a hot stranger. Billionaire Marcus Willingham. Powerful, irresistible blue eyes and completely off-limits. He couldn’t get to me before those two thugs grabbed me, but luckily, he was able to chase them off. It was just supposed to be one night. No love. No feelings. And certainly no regrets. Six weeks later, I found myself staring at a positive pregnancy test.

Hockey star Max Yearwood was everything I needed at the time - fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months, since he’d signed with a new team 3,000 miles away. Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right? Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.

I knew it was a bad idea to get on the elevator. Because now, I have three problems. Number one, I’m stuck in the elevator. Number two, I’m soaking wet from the rain. Number three, he got in before the doors closed. Miles Humphries. My neighbor. The one I hate. The biggest jerk I’ve ever met. Mr. Bachelor-for-Life and I, Rose Taylor, are like night and day. Imagine my jaw dropping when he asks me to be his fake fiancée. And move in with him. Together with my cat. Hello? That’s disaster waiting to happen. But then he makes me an offer I can’t refuse.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

He's a billionaire heir. A grump supreme. Hater of people. Bigger hater of peopling with people. And my new fake boyfriend. "Emotionally unavailable" doesn’t even begin to describe Hayes Rutherford. He has more defenses than a nuclear missile silo. And he’s the ultimate catch of the century. At least, according to his bank statement. My job’s simple: Keep all interested ladies away from the walled-off heir, by pretending to be his one true love. But you know what they say about fake-dating a billionaire: It’s all fun and games, until the scandals start.

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.

Welcome to Happy Cat, Georgia, where the men are hot, the romance is swoon-worthy, and the animals don’t play by the rules. This box set includes four stand-alone but linked romantic comedies, as well as a bonus novella featuring a British single dad who’s head-over-heels for his nanny.

Everything goes as planned...until Nate and I wake up the next day, hung-over, wearing identical golden wedding bands, and with no memory of what happened the night before. Cue major hyperventilation. But it's okay. Nothing that a quick marriage dissolution can't solve...until the pregnancy test stick comes back with two pink lines...

Once I saw Marnie Long, a sassy, sultry, charismatic older woman in a bar, I couldn’t peel my eyes off her. I wanted her. At least, for one night. I’m way too busy with my career these days for anything more. As it turned out, after recently getting burned, Marnie was on the same page as me—all she wanted was one night of fun. I was happy to be of service. What I didn’t expect during our night together, however, was how deeply we connected. Also, how much I was dying to see her again the next morning.

Five hockey players, a cabin in the woods...and little old me, Winnie Berlin. Sounds like the start of a fantasy, right? But it's not. It's my reality. It all started when I got lost in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. A wicked thunderstorm sent my car mud sliding into a ditch, and for a girl whose survival skills involve finding the nearest Starbucks, I was in deep trouble. Forced to abandon my car in search of help, I stumbled upon a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

We met in a trapped elevator. Emmett was on his way to work, sophisticated and handsome in his tailored suit and tie. I was on my way to the sperm bank. Awkward, right? At 35, my life hadn't taken the path I thought it would and I was tired of waiting - I wanted a baby. And I was ready to take matters into my own hands to make it happen. After our ill-fated elevator encounter, Emmett insisted on taking me to dinner - he also insisted on something else - that I ditch my plan involving a turkey baster and let him do the job. He would be my baby daddy.

For the last year, I’ve wanted someone I can’t have. The man my father built his latest multimillion-dollar business with. He’s nearly a decade older than I am, and he’s entirely forbidden. The fact that he’s never given me a second glance only makes me long for him more.

Declan Hardy, All-American heartthrob and retired NFL billionaire, is my complete opposite. He's commanding where I'm cooperative. Spontaneous while I am deliberate. Loud when I stay quiet. The only thing we have in common is that both our names are on my father's will.