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 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.

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.

I was a small-town girl with big city dreams and more ambition than money to my name. He had everything—money, privilege, and the world at his feet. Opposites in every way, but that didn’t matter. We were lightning in a bottle, and everything felt possible when we were together. Life was perfect.

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 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.

Reed York was never my boyfriend. He was the pen. I was the company ink. Though if you want to get technical, we were more like colleagues who hated each other...with benefits. Everything was fine until the charming jerk went behind my back, stole my promotion, and became my boss - literally overnight. Refusing to work beneath him, I transferred 2,014 miles away to our Chicago division. But he’s just announced a last-minute site visit the week between Christmas and New Year’s, and he’s audaciously designated me as his "right-hand gal" during his visit.

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.

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.

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?"

It was supposed to be the best day of my life. But the second I got up, things started to fall apart. The kitchen just caught on fire. Flowers were from a funeral. My bride-to-be just had an allergic reaction, leaving by ambulance. Oh, and my ex-girlfriend just walked into the church. They say you have to see the signs when they are right in front of you. Maybe she was just mine to have.

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.

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.

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.

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.