Christmas is bad enough without all the music, frantic shopping sprees, and holiday parties. So many parties… with people you couldn’t stand in high school and definitely can’t stand now. Top of the list? Patty Harrison. She made my teen years miserable and, now that we’re adults, she’s trying to get me banned from the Christmas market. Even so, I’m not going to commit literal murder.

I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!

Welcome to life as a wedding planner for the rich and entitled of Manhattan. I’ve seen it all - from the nastiest bridezilla to the most overindulged billionaire. And Evan is the worst. Tall, dark, and handsome, he has a ridiculously ripped body under his formal suit and runs a massive hedgefund that’s actively making the world a worse place. I don’t even feel sorry for him when he walks away from the alter in a daze

When your grandmother stalks the star hockey player on the rival team because “You need a husband, Dakota—you’re not getting any younger!” it’s Christmas crazy on ice.

As a scruffy, disorganised daydreamer, Lucy Mayweather is like a fish out of water at the high-powered offices of her brother’s billionaire best friend. When she agreed to work for Felix, she had no idea quite how cut-throat his world–or he–would be. She just wanted to escape her reclusive life and be close to her childhood crush, hoping he might notice her. But Lucy’s lonelier in London than she’s even been in her tiny village back home.

When you kiss your perfect boyfriend under the mistletoe...only for your cousin scream to the family that you stole her man, you realize that you will never again have a merry Christmas. In my defense, I didn’t know my boss—yup, boss. Buckle up because this is messy—was my cousin’s newly minted and totally lying fiancé. I thought he was the Nutcracker Prince come to finally show my family that I, too, was worthy of putting the star atop the Christmas tree.

In my perfect world, it would always be winter and never Christmas. I despise the holiday. I hate carols, shopping, and pretending to be a perfect family. I walked away from my family, or rather, they walked away from me. My heart is like ice. See it creeping up the walls. Oh, wait, no, that’s royal icing.

I kept smiling when I caught my fiancé coming down my sister’s chimney on Christmas Eve. I gave polite congratulations when they got engaged. And I even offered to help decorate for their Christmas wedding despite the fact that was supposed to be my dream wedding. But when my sister cuts up my great-grandmother’s one-hundred-year-old wedding dress and turns it into a skank show, even though that was the dress I was going to wear on my wedding day? Well, this elf is torching down the North Pole.

Rules are meant to be broken. Except for one: Women can't get enough peonies. Even the girl in front of me in line is admiring the peonies in my hand. While I need these particular flowers for my latest plot, I'll still give Meghan the biggest, thickest bouquet I can find. It's flattering how much she wants my peonies. And I don't mind personally delivering.

Thanks to my needy pet rat, I’m banned from working at all Florida theme parks. So what’s a person to do? Get a job as a mascot for a local hockey team, of course. I didn’t expect to get pushed into a pool on my first day by the grouchiest, hottest player on the team. Nor could I have imagined that we’d get locked into an evacuated building together and share an angry kiss that would get caught on video. Or that said video would go viral, sending ticket sales for our games through the roof.

Crash-land on an alien barbarian planet and told there’s no way home? Anyone else might have a nervous breakdown, but I was abducted with my besties! Between us, we have fifteen PhDs. We will be getting off this planet. Trust. Two liquid hydrogen rockets and a smidge of deep-space travel later, and we’re back home on Earth. Except that our spaceship had stowaways. Now there’s a seven-foot-tall alien named Cassius in my Los Angeles condo. He’s calmly explaining that, according to the ancestors, we are to be eternally mated and have a litter of children.

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.

I figured being an extra for a local production would be a harmless distraction-a way for me to forget my charmed life is imploding. Sure, I'm the one who blew the whistle on my family business, but that doesn't make it any easier to sit around in the fallout. Worse, I have to spend every last minute on set with a woman who was hurt by my parents' greed. I'm determined to help her, thereby evening the scales of justice, but Delia Evans is so sunshiney and naïve and . . .Well, extra. And, to my utter astonishment, I find myself wanting more of her.

Your wedding day is meant to be the happiest day of your life. Not the day you discover your groom is a cheating jerk. When I run, strong arms catch me. It’s just a shame they belong to my ex’s nemesis, Oliver Deubel. Rich and powerful, the man is sin in a suit. He’s also arrogant, demanding, and infuriatingly irresistible. When my wedding disaster goes viral and deportation hangs over my head, Oliver offers me a deal: help him ruin my ex in exchange for my visa. The fine print? Move in with him.

I touched her confectionary creation, and she told me off. Slapping my hands and cursing in her own unique fashion. No one talked to me that way. I liked it. I liked her cake even more. So, I took her to Italy to bake for me. I should have asked her first, but I had a feeling she'd say no. But I brought her cat, so that should count for something.