Don’t sleep with your best friend. Take it from me. I did it. And it was awful - I-wish-the-tequila-made-me-forget kind of bad. The problem is, Luke has forgotten. He swears that he can’t remember a thing about that night beyond the trays of tequila shots being set on the tables. But I can't forget. I can’t forget how good his hands felt until I fell over and hit my hip on the dresser, and I sure as hell can’t forget the entire two minutes.

As the owner of Pick-A-D*ck, New Orleans' premier hook-up website, my job is simple. Connect two people for a no-strings, no-expectations hook-up. The plus for my clients is that I'm the one who gets to sift through the d*ck pics - except this time, they're required. My problem? My brother, co-owner of Pick-A-D*ck's sister dating site, doesn't believe it's possible to hook up with someone three times and not fall in love. I disagree. I know it's possible. And my disagreement is exactly how I end up reconnected with my high school nemesis, Elliott Sloane.

Let me make this clear right here, right now: I, Halley Dawson, do not care that Preston Wright is kissing other women. Not a lick. Not at all. Nuh-uh-freakin'-uh. I do care that he's doing it six feet away from me behind a gaudy velvet curtain - making him my competition in this year's kissing contest. Why do I care, you ask? Because I've had an unfortunate crush on the insufferable idiot since I was 16 years old, but I also know it's never going to happen.

When your flatmate is the hottest new party planner in the country, three things are bound to happen: 1. You’ll have to take a work call for her while you’re in your underwear. 2. You’ll have to fill in for her after an emergency...and pretend to be her. 3. You will royally mess it up...until a hot future duke steps in to save your bum. Yes, yes, that all sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Until you consider the party being planned is for the Dowager Duchess of Devon’s 80th birthday, and the current duchess is the ultimate type A personality.

Conner Burke never expected Sofie Callahan to come back. Where she's been for the last two and half years is a mystery, and so is the reason she left in the first place. Now, though, she's back in their hometown of Shelton Bay, South Carolina, at the same time Conner's band Dirty B. is home on a tour break.

Imagine this. You're ready to leave after a one-night stand, and you're figuring out how to - shock horror - leave your number and ask him to be your fake boyfriend for your sister's wedding this weekend. When he wakes up. Well, that happened to me. And over coffee and omelets, I found myself a date. Which was how I ended up arriving at the wedding with a guy I knew nothing about.

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.

I’ve got a list of people I absolutely don’t ever want to be stuck with on a boat, or a plane, or a train, and it starts and ends with the broody, grumpy, too-sexy-for-my-own good Axel Huxley. Also known as this romance novelist’s number one nemesis. The man is legendary for his mighty pen and his even mightier scowl. I tried to work together with the cocky thriller writer once upon a time, but the two of us are like vodka and good decisions. We don’t play well together.

Hardworking Isabelle Cook has a serious problem. Her family farm, site of Tilikum’s Christmas Village, is in trouble. Big trouble. And worst of all? The man trying to buy it is none other than the grumpiest, grinchiest man of them all—Elias Stoneheart.

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.