Every man knows there are lines you don't cross. Like this one - don't bang your boss' little sister. Too bad I didn't know sexy, clever, irresistible London is related to the guy who signs my paychecks. Would have been helpful to have that intel before I took her out on that first date, before I kissed her on the beach, before I made plans to take her home that night.

When the invitation arrived, it detailed the rules of the masquerade -- no names, no identities. I set one more-- find a most wicked man for one night. The kind who'll bring me deliciously naughty pleasure in dark corners. But as the clock ticks to midnight, he finds me, whisks me away to a secret alcove, and delivers all that dirty bliss and then some. We make arrangements for another secret rendez vous before I rush out of the ball.

The one unbreakable rule in the Man Code is this: no matter how beautiful, smart, and clever she is, do not fall in love with your best friend's woman. Yeah, so I screwed up big time when I fell for her. I might have let my sin of unrequited love slide, given everything that went down in the last few years, but Lulu just walked back into my life as vibrant as ever. And the cards are stacked against me once again. We're working together, and the last thing I want to do is mess up her life with a forbidden office romance now that she's finally got the fresh start she deserves.

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Every bartender should follow one simple rule—don't go home with the customers. That’s been easy for me to stick to, until the night a cocky, confident, and sinfully charming hockey star walks into my bar. This sexy athlete is too hard to resist, especially when he makes it clear how much he wants the “sarcastic, witty, hot AF” guy behind the bar—also known as me.

One night only - that was the deal we made. But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another. Until I walked into the office to learn he just bought my company.

When I discover my boyfriend is cheating on me, I move out right away taking what I love most – my dog. As I fly out the door, I make sure to swipe the thing my ex loves best–the VIP tickets he won to a hockey game, complete with the chance to spend an evening with the city’s two biggest NHL stars. I can’t wait to snap selfies with my ex’s idols and rub it in his face.

Let me just say -- none of this was supposed to happen. I didn't expect the letter to go viral. I didn't think anyone would figure out who Dear Sexy Ex was. And I especially never thought he would find out about it. Yeah, bit of a miscalculation there. But see, I need the money to fund my brand new venture. And Dear Sexy Ex, well, it turns out he needs me to save his business.

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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.

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There are three words most men can’t resist - I dare you. So as you can see, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I had no choice when my buddies said, “I bet you can’t get that brunette beauty to kiss you before the night ends.” I proved them wrong, and oh how good it felt to be right when I swept the quick-tongued woman into my arms and kissed the breath out of her at the party. But, I made a slight miscalculation. Turns out she’s my brand new enemy.

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”.

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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.

My new neighbor is a hot, grumpy hockey player who works out shirtless on his porch every morning. But it’s not technically spying if I just happen to be on my patio at the same time ... right? Imagine my surprise when the sexy grouch turns out to be the client who just hired me to redecorate the house he’s giving his mom. What’s a ray of sunshine like me to do? Pretend I’ve never noticed his abs while we pick out furniture—since I’d never date a client. And Ford Devon? He’s made it clear this is his final season, and he wants zero distractions.

Let me just say -- none of this was supposed to happen. I didn't expect the letter to go viral. I didn't think anyone would figure out who Dear Sexy Ex was. And I especially never thought he would find out about it. Yeah, bit of a miscalculation there. But see, I need the money to fund my brand new venture. And Dear Sexy Ex, well, it turns out he needs me to save his business.

One night only - that was the deal we made. But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another. Until I walked into the office to learn he just bought my company.

The one unbreakable rule in the Man Code is this: no matter how beautiful, smart, and clever she is, do not fall in love with your best friend's woman. Yeah, so I screwed up big time when I fell for her. I might have let my sin of unrequited love slide, given everything that went down in the last few years, but Lulu just walked back into my life as vibrant as ever. And the cards are stacked against me once again. We're working together, and the last thing I want to do is mess up her life with a forbidden office romance now that she's finally got the fresh start she deserves.

I didn’t know who the smoldering man in the expensive suit was that first night. Only that he was commanding. Intense. And exactly what I needed to forget my heartbreak. But there’s no forgetting him the next day when Jack Sullivan walks into my office. Philanthropic billionaire, brilliant businessman, my brand-new client…And off-limits in every possible way. We should have walked away. Instead, we made a new arrangement. Thirty nights. No promises. Just stolen moments in penthouses, in Paris hotel rooms, on Manhattan balconies.

I was only trying to help a friend. I swear. I was legit asking for a friend who was finally ready to date again. So I did what any good friend would do. Posted it for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time - I’d weed through the candidates, and bring her my top picks. But then he responded. Is it wrong to date the guy I screened for my bestie? Not asking for a friend.

To do list: graduate with honors, get into medical school, and snag the most sought-after celebrity photo of all time to cover my tuition. One more thing - resist the hot British guy who's my biggest rival. But from the first day I run into William on his motorcycle, he makes that difficult, since he's flirty, charming, clever, and keeps trying to convince me to spend the night with him. Trust me - stripping him down to nothing is on my wish list, but I can't let him get under my skin as I chase cheating directors and stake out clandestine trysts.

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”.

The first time a woman stepped out of a painting, I thought I was seeing things. The second time, I thought I was going mad. The night she emerged from a Renoir, I felt something else entirely -- a deep stirring of desire, and the wish to get to know the brilliant beauty who's been trapped inside a painted garden for years. She can only come out at night in the Musée d'Orsay, where I work. There, after hours, we wander through galleries, with the Van Goghs, the Monets, and the Toulouse Lautrecs the only witnesses to our midnight kisses and, soon, our trysts.

When the invitation arrived, it detailed the rules of the masquerade -- no names, no identities. I set one more-- find a most wicked man for one night. The kind who'll bring me deliciously naughty pleasure in dark corners. But as the clock ticks to midnight, he finds me, whisks me away to a secret alcove, and delivers all that dirty bliss and then some. We make arrangements for another secret rendez vous before I rush out of the ball.

Kristen Leonard is done with setups. She’s not interested in your son or your nephew or your butcher or the guy who mows your lawn, thank you very much, grandma! After all, she’s a modern woman - she’ll take her chances on the algorithms of online dating to find her ideal man. Before long, she meets a man who might just be the one - he’s hilarious, quick-witted, and full of heart. And when she meets up with Cameron in real life, he certainly looks exactly like his profile picture...but something’s not quite right.

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He's my business partner, my good friend, and the man I've craved for years. But I've resisted the sexy Brit, and I plan to keep up my walls because I've been there, done that, and I know how much it hurts when you let someone into your heart. Then an opportunity comes along for us to snag the business deal of a lifetime. The catch? We need to pretend we're married to pull off this high-stakes deal. So the clever, charming man with secrets a mile deep becomes my temporary husband, as we travel around Europe.

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As the team’s publicist, I desperately need a football player to be the face of our charity calendar. Turns out our one-time party boy receiver Jones Beckett needs a savvy PR woman to manage his new good guy rep. Sounds like a simple give and take, even though I’ll be traveling around the country, snapping pictures of the sexy athlete holding rescue kittens and puppies. Still, I’m dedicated to my job, so I'll stick to my iron-clad rule—don't date a player. And never ever fall for one. No matter how charming, big-hearted and devilishly clever the man is.