Cooper Pierce, single dad and chiseled by God. Blue eyes that could melt panties like Superman. My cutesy boutique is on the edge of bankruptcy. And Cooper just flew in with his red cape and meticulously carved six pack to save the day. There's one teeny tiny little catch. He needs me to play wifey for three months. And move into his daddy-warbucks mansion. So I’ll wear his fat 4.3 carat diamond ring and fall in love with his two adorable little daughters. But his fierce protective streak makes it hard to stay out of his bed.

It all started one night when a sexy billionaire bought me a drink, and I accidentally tossed it all over his five-thousand-dollar suit. He tried to blame me, but it was his fault because of his lack of respect for my personal boundaries. I offered to pay for the dry cleaning and gave him my number to tell me how much it cost. He did, and we ended up spending the night together. Long story short. The condom broke, I forgot to take my pill two days in a row, and we mistakenly created a baby.

Emmett Lasker is impossible to work for. He might be model handsome and stupidly wealthy, but he also has it out for me. He’s given me more last-minute and weekend requests than anyone else, ruining any plans I make. I should quit. And I will. Just as soon as I hit my two-year anniversary and earn out my signing bonus. But after a particularly awful day at work, a breakup (via text!), and my computer crashing, I’ve had enough! So at 11:59 Friday night, I barge into Emmett’s office to tell him what I really think of him. Only, that’s not what happens. AT ALL.

Whit Lancaster burst into my life like a storm. Dark and thunderous, furious and fierce. Cold, heartless, and devastatingly beautiful, like the statues in our prep school gardens. The school with his family name on the sign. He can do no wrong here. This is his domain. He’s a menace on campus. Adored and feared. Hated and respected. His taunting words carve into my skin, shredding me to ribbons. Yet his intense gaze scorches my blood, fills me with a longing I don’t understand.

Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend. Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet. Target: Grady Rock. Master baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends. Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me.

I met my dream girl. That’s right. She’s stunning and the worst bartender I’ve ever seen. I should have gone home and gone to sleep—dream girl or not. I had an early morning and the season was starting soon. But when she threatened me with boy band karaoke, I couldn't help myself. I went. The stars aligned. I have never felt more alive or wanted anyone more than I want her.

Widower Alexander Cartwright has one thing on his mind—his kids. He plans on keeping it that way until his mother hires a sassy, free-spirited nanny to watch them during the holidays. Art teacher Phoebe Love needs a job and to take a secret time out from her long-term, not always nice boyfriend. She plans to focus on the two boys and figure her situation out, but their father isn’t making that easy on her.

My new boss is my baby's daddy . . . he just doesn't know it yet. But when he sees my son for the first time . . . feels a fatherly connection that he can't describe, he knows something is wrong. Five years ago, Carter and I had one unforgettable night just before he moved away. I tried to find him, but fate had other plans. Now, five years later, he's back in town. And my baby's daddy is my prick of a new boss.

When he invited me to join him for a drink, I thought Alessandro was an ordinary guest at my family's hotel. I didn't know I belonged to him until he told me right there in the restaurant. I thought I had a say in the matter. But when I stood up to leave, it just earned me a sore bottom for the plane ride to New York, where our wedding was already planned for the next day. But I was soaking wet for him before he even walked me down the aisle.

Being a single dad while managing one of the biggest businesses in New Orleans keeps me very busy. I spend my free time with my daughter, Bella—reading to her, styling her hair, or choosing nail polishes appropriate for an eight-year-old. But I’m okay with that, because she is my whole world. After my divorce, I made myself a promise: I wouldn’t date until Bella was older. Then, all my good intentions go up in smoke when I hire our newest chef for the flagship restaurant in the French Quarter.

Marrying Beckett Coleman is the best idea I've had in years. I can grant my sick dad’s wish to walk one of his daughters down the aisle, and Beckett has my help solving a custody situation with his daughter. Our plan is to spend a year together, then part ways. Easy, especially since I'm not his type, and he's not mine either. He’s too quiet and too serious. And while he’s distractingly gorgeous, he’s also my brother’s teammate. Beckett is fake husband material, not the real deal. I just have to remember that.

Jake Whitley and I start off on the wrong foot. And then it goes downhill from there. After my career implodes, I’m determined to make a living with my new event planning business. But Jake and I are at odds from the moment I step on his private plane.

I walked into the wrong hotel room...to a naked man fresh out of the shower. Now, I'm pregnant with his baby. I should've left as soon as I saw him. He was too beautiful to be real. I got halfway to the door… And then he saw exactly what I was trying to hide.

It was supposed to be a regular day out. Three couples celebrating the last days of summer. When tragedy struck. I thought I was going to marry her. Instead, I was burying her. I blamed the world for my pain. I buried it all. I became a man I didn’t even recognize.

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.