My assignment is simple: trek to a remote English cottage and convince Nathaniel Foster to let me work with him. Too bad he’s a complete and utter jerk. Who slams the door in a poor stranger’s face, leaving them shivering out in the snow? Nathaniel is God’s gift to readers everywhere. My publisher is desperate for his next book, which in turn makes me desperate to help him complete it. So what if he doesn’t want to play nice? I have no choice but to live and work with him in this snow-covered cottage, suffering under his piercing blue stare until it feels like I might combust.

Casey Hughes is a struggling travel journalist desperate for a big break when she lands the assignment of a lifetime: hop on board Aurelia for its maiden voyage through paradise. While she’ll bask in the luxury cruise ship’s fine dining and complimentary spa treatments, her real mission is to snag an exclusive interview with Phillip Woodmont.

I have one simple rule: Don’t date professional baseball players. There are no exceptions, no workarounds. With a brother in the league, I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the downright horrifying. Those guys might seem tantalizing when they’re in uniform down on the field, hitting grand slams in front of a crowd of adoring fans, but I know better. The huge egos? The insane travel schedules? The veritable buffet of female companions? No ma’am. Professional athletes are best handled at a distance, preferably far enough away that their chiseled jawlines blur into oblivion. Enter Grant Navarro.

While most little girls grow up idolizing Ariel or Belle, I was banging a plastic gavel and pretending to be Judge Judy. I spent my summers divorcing Barbie and Ken and splitting their Dreamhouse assets. Now, my goal to become the very best acquisitions lawyer at the top firm in Chicago is within reach. I’m one month into my big-girl job at Elwood Hoyt, venti Starbucks in hand, ready to take on the day. The sleek elevator doors are about to close...then he steps in after me. Hudson Rhodes—the one senior partner I was told to avoid at all costs.

It’s simple: Noah Peterson and I are enemies. Our fellow teachers know it, our friends know it—even the Starbucks drive-through lady knows it. The shrill whine of the school bell announces the start of each day’s no-holds-barred grudge match. Since neither of us is looking to get fired or thrown in prison, we war with our words and our wits. We prefer banter that bites. All day, I’m on edge, looking around every corner, expecting him to do his worst. Summer usually offers the sweetest relief—a two-month Noah detox—but not this year.

Once upon a time, Emmett Mercier was the golden boy of St. John’s Boarding School. The crown prince of his father’s vast business empire, unapologetically attractive...oh, and fluent in French. At school, I kept a picture of him hidden beneath my pillow, a tiny token of my adolescent infatuation, but I might as well have been worshiping a distant demigod. He was hardly aware of my existence. I was far too young, and he was far too consequential—until one day we found ourselves alone together in the dark library and struck up a friendship...of sorts.

Nicholas Hunt is the man I hate. For good reason. His opinion of me is tainted by prejudice even before my arrival at his grandmother’s estate, and my first impression of him is just as abysmal. His arrogance and icy demeanor make it clear that he’s the type of man who’s best handled at a distance. Fortunately, space shouldn’t be an issue inside this Gilded Age mansion and its lush gardens. If I stick with the servants and he keeps to his sailboat, we should hardly cross paths at all. Unfortunately, at Rosethorn, I find that all roads eventually lead to Nicholas Hunt.

Young and naïve—those are his exact words. Professor Barclay views me as a nuisance, a disruption of his otherwise obedient class and perfectly regimented life. His bad impression of me stems from a simple misunderstanding. When that impression sours from bad to worse, he decides to make an example out of me in front of the entire class. Every other female student in that auditorium looks on, longing to trade places with me, wishing they were the object of his attention. It’s humiliating. I want nothing to do with him or the tension growing between us, but he feels inescapable.

Future You here, coming to offer a little advice: Hang on for dear life. This summer is going to be a wild one. I know what you’re thinking: Life’s going so well! I don’t have a care in the world! Wrong. That culinary career you love so much? It’s about to go up in smoke, and your boyfriend? Yeah...he’s a goner too. If only love were as simple as, say, actually adding yourself to the lease agreement so you don’t suddenly find yourself loveless, jobless, and homeless!

I've spent eight years wishing I'd fall out of love with Derek Knightley. Blowing out birthday candles, chasing after shooting stars, making it rain spare change into mall fountains - every time it's the same wish: Forget about Derek. But the day he walks back into my life, I realize there are two things time has yet to soften: my feelings for him and his chiseled jawline. It's infuriating that my heart still races when he walks into a room. I refuse to fall prey to old unrequited love, so I decide the less I'm around him, the better. Avoidance is key.

Kat and Yasmine! Do not dally! Come straight home after work. Kat, don’t take the long route from the subway station just so you can pass by Cute Hot Dog Guy. This is important! I’ve had the best day. You won’t believe it. There I was in my preschool classroom, washing a bit of poo out of some soggy trousers, when this absolute babe came to collect his nephew from my class. Truthfully, I thought I’d blacked out for a moment when I first saw him. He was a proper hunk with glorious brown hair, quite tall, and he had these arms. Are muscly arms supposed to turn me on?

Marry a man I barely know to save my family from ruin. It might’ve been simple, if my betrothed were anybody else. On our wedding day, my husband-to-be arrived at the courthouse like a black cloud rolling over Manhattan. Walt didn’t crack smiles or pepper in pleasantries as we exchanged hollow vows in front of the judge. His disdain for me was so palpable I assumed we’d walk out of that ceremony and resume our regularly scheduled programming. But then fate was like, Hold my beer. I got this.

Dr. Easton is part man, part myth. He’s a formidable surgeon. Highly respected in his field. He also happens to be an ex-collegiate quarterback with a classically handsome face. Are you catching on yet? He’s horrible. Beautiful. A walking Ralph Lauren ad. He’s also so off-limits he should come with a warning label: This way lies heartache.

I thought I'd left Blackwater, Texas, behind for good. I didn't belong in the small town, but my dad wouldn't listen. He dragged me back home in his beat-up truck and dropped a bomb along the way: Chase Matthews was moving in with us. He was the golden boy of my high school, my former best friend, and the last person I wanted sleeping across the hall. His presence was too great a reminder of the ghosts I was trying to forget.

Hypnotist Savannah Sinclair is known for helping clients overcome their deep-rooted issues, from anxiety to addiction. But her nontraditional approach also attracts plenty of skeptics—including her high school nemesis and rival, Mason Beckett, who just so happens to be the boy who broke her heart.

Casey Hughes is a struggling travel journalist desperate for a big break when she lands the assignment of a lifetime: hop on board Aurelia for its maiden voyage through paradise. While she’ll bask in the luxury cruise ship’s fine dining and complimentary spa treatments, her real mission is to snag an exclusive interview with Phillip Woodmont.

Every small-town girl has known a Sawyer Garnett. He’s the dimpled dreamboat we used to fantasize about in algebra class, the hometown heartbreaker with no shortage of outraged exes. But unlike most golden boys, this one didn’t peak in high school. Oh, no, no. Like the fine wine at the vineyard he’s the literal heir to, Sawyer’s only gotten better with age. Nobody is more annoyed that karma has yet to find Sawyer than my best friend, his old flame. Just hearing his name makes her curse the day he was born.

When Gabrielle Solomon falls, she falls hard. Even if that means literally toppling over a porch railing in nothing but a flimsy towel—right in front of her sexy new neighbor. Jay Stetson is 100 percent hero material with those arms, that chest, and his deliciously oh-so-sexy smirk. The chiseled hunk in flannel has an irresistible off-limits attitude while plucking Gabrielle out of the bushes and saving her from a snake. Unfortunately, he’s not indulging in what Gabrielle is offering—not with his emotional train wreck of a past.

To me, that's all Lucian Aston is—a highly sophisticated, posh Englishman who stars in my daydreams. Mostly because of the way he views me as a loud, boisterous, no-nonsense surgical nurse he's stuck touring London and Paris with up to the day of his groundbreaking surgery. Until then, we've got a lot of downtime to kill. So, it's only natural that I put my best foot forward to get to know him a little better. Problem is Lucian has no intention of taking a single step in his fancy wingtips to meet me halfway. That is until we strike our deal.

A city girl leaves her life behind in LA to start over in a small town… It’s a cliché, but it’s also Amelia Taylor’s life. And her new life as a romance novelist and motelier is going great—until Nathan Hart checks in. Of course he’s disastrously handsome, thoroughly disagreeable, and seems to be set against Amelia on sight. Of course there’s smoldering tension between them that can’t be ignored. They’d make the perfect enemies to lovers story. It’s one of Amelia’s favorite tropes.

Vivian Quackenbush enjoys a typical life. She has winesday evenings with her two best friends. Her son is in college. She and her husband, Mitch, are planning the next move for their empty-nester future. But to Vivian’s blindsided surprise…not together. After nearly twenty-five years of marriage, Mitch wants a divorce. He confesses that he doesn’t love her anymore. He never even liked her chicken salad! Brutal. What is Vivian to do but channel her anger, frustration, and pain into a video she posts online.

My assignment is simple: trek to a remote English cottage and convince Nathaniel Foster to let me work with him. Too bad he’s a complete and utter jerk. Who slams the door in a poor stranger’s face, leaving them shivering out in the snow? Nathaniel is God’s gift to readers everywhere. My publisher is desperate for his next book, which in turn makes me desperate to help him complete it. So what if he doesn’t want to play nice? I have no choice but to live and work with him in this snow-covered cottage, suffering under his piercing blue stare until it feels like I might combust.

Dr. Easton is part man, part myth. He’s a formidable surgeon. Highly respected in his field. He also happens to be an ex-collegiate quarterback with a classically handsome face. Are you catching on yet? He’s horrible. Beautiful. A walking Ralph Lauren ad. He’s also so off-limits he should come with a warning label: This way lies heartache.

Addison Torres has nothing left to lose in New York: no job, no fiancé, no parents to lean on. So when Uncle Arnie offers her a concierge gig in sunny California, she hops on a plane without looking back. Before it all came crashing down, Addison had a matchmaking career and handsome partner—then she got a little too cozy with a client. Digging her way out of the wreckage, she’s taken a strict vow of celibacy. Unfortunately, Addison’s new home is where such promises go to die.

It’s simple: Noah Peterson and I are enemies. Our fellow teachers know it, our friends know it—even the Starbucks drive-through lady knows it. The shrill whine of the school bell announces the start of each day’s no-holds-barred grudge match. Since neither of us is looking to get fired or thrown in prison, we war with our words and our wits. We prefer banter that bites. All day, I’m on edge, looking around every corner, expecting him to do his worst. Summer usually offers the sweetest relief—a two-month Noah detox—but not this year.