The name on the screen was "Absinthe". But I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late-night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the filthiest little...mutually satisfying exchanges...I'd ever experienced in my life. We'd never met. Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, "You wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?"

After a brush with death, I realize it’s time to make changes in my life. Big changes. First, my job. I love being a journalist, but I hate my megawatt magnate boss, West Maxwell. When he demands I rewrite an article on short notice, I turn the tables on him with a scathing new column and quit in a blaze of glory. But West isn’t about to let me go that easily, the jerk. He offers me an unexpected new position: mentor to his rebellious teenage niece. For some reason, I agree—I like helping people, but I’m also admittedly curious to glimpse the man behind the mogul.

Rhett Carson was as cold as the ice on which he skated. He was as calloused as the hands that shot the goals that won world championships. He was also damaged. And broken. And he didn't know it, but I knew all about him...and his unfortunate connection with my estranged older brother. I knew why he was so bitter and angry. I knew why he was so cold hearted. But I didn't know why I let myself fall in love with him. And I didn't know why I couldn't stop - even when he told me to.

Dear Isaiah, eight months ago, you were just a soldier about to be deployed and I was just a waitress, sneaking you a free pancake and hoping you wouldn't notice that my gaze was lingering a little too long. But you did notice. We spent one life-changing week together before you left, and we said goodbye on day eight, exchanging addresses at the last minute. I saved every letter you wrote me, your words quickly becoming my religion. But you went radio silent on me months ago, and then you had the audacity to walk into my diner yesterday and act like you'd never seen me in your life.

"The first time I saw him was at a bar called Ophelia’s on a misty Thursday night. I was there to drown my sorrows after a trying day, he was there to escape the storm. After a brief yet incredibly cruel exchange, the handsome stranger bolted before I had a chance to tell him off. Tearing after him in heels and barely able to keep up in the freezing rain, I ended my chase when I realized where he was going. They say never to judge someone unless you know their story. I never could have anticipated his..."

Trey Westcott - devastatingly gorgeous. Intimidatingly brilliant. Powerful beyond belief. As the first trillionaire in existence, my boss lives a life most people can only dream of. Anything he wants is a snap of the fingers away. But when the coldhearted magnate snaps his fingers and requests me for a stint on his arm playing the role of his devoted fiancée and then some, he makes an offer I can’t refuse. And so I don’t. But I make it clear that he’ll have my time, my body, my attention, my discreet professionalism - everything except my heart. It’s not for sale.

The most humiliating moment of my life begins with an early morning message from my ex’s notoriously heartless best friend. I waste no time removing my accidental tag before the sharp-tongued novelist in me fires off a response to the man who harbored extreme and inexplicable hatred of me during the three years I dated his best friend in college. But I didn’t expect him to respond. And nothing could have prepared me for what he would say…or for all the ways this gorgeous villain with cruel icy blues would become the biggest plot twist my life had ever known.

My obsession was born of innocence and good intentions, and it began the day I spotted a handwritten journal lying in the bushes outside a townhouse on Lexington Avenue. It was raining sideways that morning, and my plan was to return it the next day, safe and dry. Only I kept it. I kept it, and I read it. A week later, overwhelmed with curiosity and feeling guilty for harboring secrets that didn't belong to me, I tried to return it. Only I wasn't expecting to meet him. Unapologetically heartless and enigmatically sexy, he claims he knows nothing about the journal.

Dear Melrose, The first time I met you, you were a stranger. The second time, you were my roommate. The third time, you made it clear you were about to become the biggest thorn my side had ever known. You sing way too loud in the shower and use all the hot water. You’re bossy as hell. You make my life all kinds of complicated. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. Truthfully...I can’t stop wanting you. I was going to tell you this.

Bogie had Bacall. Carrie had Big. I had Wyatt. Growing up, he was the handsome cowboy next door - an unlikely confidant, my best friend, my first kiss, and my favorite person. We were just a couple of small-town kids with ambitions bigger than the stars in our eyes. The summer after graduation, we made a pact: I’d go to college in New York and he’d stay and take over his daddy’s ranch. If, by 28, we were both still single, we’d get married…But as we stood in our high school gymnasium the night of our 10-year reunion, Wyatt told me he loved me too much to marry me.

The moment Jude Warner walked into my life, he was just some handsome stranger in an expensive suit. A moment later I discovered he was my neighbor, both of us new to the building. Then he was the knight in shining armor who rescued my place from a late-night plumbing fiasco. The prince charming who offered me refuge and ice cream during a storm-fueled power outage. The bona-fide saint who volunteered to accompany me to my crazy sister’s wedding back in North Carolina. Falling for him was easy. Finding out exactly who he was? Earth-shattering.

Rule number one for having a one-night stand: Don’t fall for the girl. After a lengthy dating slump, I finally met someone who sparked my interest. Well, first the sparks flew when we argued. Later in the evening those sparks ignited into something more. I was drawn to Devyn, in a way I hadn’t felt in a really long time. Needless to say, I was disappointed when she abruptly left after our amazing night together. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But she hadn’t even given me her number. In a city with eight-million people, I figured I’d never see Devyn again.

The last time my father beat me to a bloody pulp was the night he walked in on me with his woman in his bed. To be fair, she seduced me. And to be honest, I liked it. But to CPS, I was a victim. They shipped me to Utah, where my estranged mother lived with her husband and two sister-wives. And that's when I met her. My innocent, wholesome, perfect step-sister. Well, one of many. But Waverly stood out because just like me, we'd been fighting a losing battle our entire lives. Falling for her was a mistake, but shit, it's not like I ever made good decisions.

He said it would only hurt a little... On her 16th birthday, Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel. On my 22nd, I pricked mine on the needle of a tattoo machine wielded by a beautifully complicated man who would go on to become my ruin.

His name is Royal, but he's no prince charming. He's not even a prince - though you could say I loved him once upon a time. He was my older brother's best friend. Growing up, he sat at our dinner table every Sunday, teased me mercilessly, and pretended I annoyed him. When I was old enough, he took me on my first date. Royal taught me how to drive. Escorted me to my junior prom. Gave me my first kiss...among other things. He was my first taste of toe-curling, all-consuming, can't-sleep love.

Dear Isaiah, eight months ago, you were just a soldier about to be deployed and I was just a waitress, sneaking you a free pancake and hoping you wouldn't notice that my gaze was lingering a little too long. But you did notice. We spent one life-changing week together before you left, and we said goodbye on day eight, exchanging addresses at the last minute. I saved every letter you wrote me, your words quickly becoming my religion. But you went radio silent on me months ago, and then you had the audacity to walk into my diner yesterday and act like you'd never seen me in your life.

He said it would only hurt a little... On her 16th birthday, Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel. On my 22nd, I pricked mine on the needle of a tattoo machine wielded by a beautifully complicated man who would go on to become my ruin.

Being an identical twin has its perks, but when my sister asked me to sub in for a date with Roman Bellisario, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. Sure, he’s sinfully handsome and successful, but he also got me fired from my dream job three years ago. This time, my sister’s promotion is riding on this date, so I have to say yes. And as it turns out, we’re strangely perfect for each other. I sell art. He collects it. We’re both obsessed with the same obscure, mysterious artist that most people don’t even know exists.

The name on the screen was "Absinthe". But I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late-night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the filthiest little...mutually satisfying exchanges...I'd ever experienced in my life. We'd never met. Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, "You wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?"

Rhett Carson was as cold as the ice on which he skated. He was as calloused as the hands that shot the goals that won world championships. He was also damaged. And broken. And he didn't know it, but I knew all about him...and his unfortunate connection with my estranged older brother. I knew why he was so bitter and angry. I knew why he was so cold hearted. But I didn't know why I let myself fall in love with him. And I didn't know why I couldn't stop - even when he told me to.

Trey Westcott - devastatingly gorgeous. Intimidatingly brilliant. Powerful beyond belief. As the first trillionaire in existence, my boss lives a life most people can only dream of. Anything he wants is a snap of the fingers away. But when the coldhearted magnate snaps his fingers and requests me for a stint on his arm playing the role of his devoted fiancée and then some, he makes an offer I can’t refuse. And so I don’t. But I make it clear that he’ll have my time, my body, my attention, my discreet professionalism - everything except my heart. It’s not for sale.

In the Wakemont family, it’s tradition to arrange a marriage before the ink is dry on your birth certificate. I was five hours old when my father promised me to the son of a man with “more money than God.” As we grew older, my future groom and I were encouraged to exchange “love letters” to get better acquainted—except the correspondence he sent read more like hate mail. Slade Delacorte hated the arrangement. But more than that, he hated me. He was moody, intense, arrogant, and darkly gorgeous. A villain—not a prince. The last man on earth I’d ever marry (if I had the choice).

The moment Jude Warner walked into my life, he was just some handsome stranger in an expensive suit. A moment later I discovered he was my neighbor, both of us new to the building. Then he was the knight in shining armor who rescued my place from a late-night plumbing fiasco. The prince charming who offered me refuge and ice cream during a storm-fueled power outage. The bona-fide saint who volunteered to accompany me to my crazy sister’s wedding back in North Carolina. Falling for him was easy. Finding out exactly who he was? Earth-shattering.

When some pretty little thing shows up at my doorstep with a suitcase, claiming she rented my house for the summer, I waste no time informing her that my house isn't for rent. Some Internet jack*ss scammed her out of all her money, but that's not my problem. Only when I find her sleeping in her car a couple days later, I can't turn my back. I make her an offer: room and board in exchange for working on my ranch. She agrees, and I open my doors to a girl who sings too loud, sticks her nose where it doesn't belong, and distracts me with her tight jeans and those full lips.

For me, family is a curse. My father and brother made my life hell. My mother’s untimely death still keeps me up at night. Now that my brother, Donovan, has been killed in an accident, I can forget the past. The last remnant is the childhood home I’ve inherited—and which I intend to burn to the ground. The only obstacle? Anneliese Nielsen, Donovan’s fiancée.