Pretending to date my rich, sexy, and caring friend Gabriel could grant us the deal of a lifetime . . . or ruin my chances of ever running my family's company. Gabe is handsome and surprisingly down to earth for a billionaire. Teaming up with him for a massive project shouldn't have required us to fake a relationship. My machista Latine family is to blame for forcing us into it. They think my goal should be to settle down and make babies, not run a corporation. But I won't let anything come between me and my career plans . . .

Connie has always distrusted nice guys. In her experience, they’re just waiting to reveal some horrible secret. And then she meets big, adorable, Henry Samuel Beckett—editor extraordinaire, lover of bow ties, sweet and so cheery she struggles to believe he’s real. Until Henry Samuel Beckett—or Beck, as he’s known to most—tells her the secret underneath his sunny surface: He’s been single all his life.

I’m a curvy sports geek. Liam’s a hockey god. He’s way out of my league… My brother’s best friend is acting really weird. Flowers keep showing up. He sends me Cameos and concert tickets. Then, there’s the job offer… Well, first, there was the fact that he tracked me down to NYC. It’s really complicated, okay? But so are my feelings for him. I’ve been ignoring them for so long that they became a wall I’m comfortable hiding behind.

Look, I've had it bad for the girl with all the curves next door forever. She turned me down in high school and since I'm not a total douchecanoe, I lusted after her all by myself in my shower, and we stayed just friends for years. Now she's the adorkable librarian next door, and I'm the star quarterback of the best pro football team in the league. So when she asks me to be her fake date to her all-girls school reunion, I am totally down to show her off to the mean girls who bullied her back then so they can see just how incredible she is.

Lennox Kennedy is beautiful, loud, and the love of my life. She's also my ex-girlfriend. The first time I saw her after ten years apart, I slammed into the plexiglass minutes before our game was set to begin. The second time I threw up. The third time's a charm apparently because as my fiancée and I walked into an appointment to meet the woman hired to plan our nuptials—there she was again. Obviously, I did what any smart man would do—I called off the wedding. I don't have a plan per se, other than winning back the only girl I've ever loved.