I hope this email finds you well. Your well-being and personal growth are of the utmost importance to me, as a therapist. As such, I have decided it is in your best interest to continue individual therapy with another practitioner. This is due to the potential for boundaries being crossed between us. Attached is a list of colleagues I would recommend for you. 

Being a veteran quarterback means I’m a mentally alert, fine-tuned athletic machine who can make split-second decisions. It’s my job to anticipate what’s going to happen next. But I couldn’t have anticipated the death of our beloved team owner, or his estranged daughter, Hannah Strong, inheriting the Boston Tomcats. She’s stubborn, uptight, infuriating, and wrong about absolutely everything. I can’t stop arguing with her. Or thinking about her. And I don’t want to talk about how good she looks in a skirt. Or how good she’d look out of it. Really, I don’t.

Everyone on Main Street has been talking about Evan Hunter, the British movie star who’ll be filming on location in our small Pacific Northwest town for a couple of months, and all I have to say about that is: “Who?” When he shows up two weeks early to escape the London paparazzi after breaking up with some starlet, all I want to know is: “So?” When he walks into the gym that I manage for my dad and brothers, to start training for the action scenes in his movie, I’ll admit I do say to myself: “Hmmm...” 

My stress level is off the charts. I can’t sleep right on a normal day, and lately my days are filled with the best kind of chaos. My ex-wife and husband number two are filming in Poland for three months, so I’m turning down movie parts to focus on the most important role of my life - impossibly charming and somewhat capable young single dad. Our regular nanny quit. The only person I could trust to hire as a temp nanny is my best friend’s sister. If Mary Poppins and Bill Murray had a baby it would be Willa.

Am I friends with JP Cane? Ha! That's laughable. Besides the fact that he’s adopted some far-fetched notion from the movie When Harry Met Sally that says men and women can't be friends and work together, it’s safe to say we're not friends. He's annoyingly loud, obnoxiously handsome, and has made an art out of poking all my hot buttons...multiple times a day. So you can imagine how disgruntled I am when I not only have to fly to San Francisco with him for work, but stay in the same penthouse. Yup, we're sharing the same air, 24-7. We're talking full-fledged working roommates.

She serves me coffee late at night when I come around to write lyrics, but it’s not the caffeine I’ve gotten addicted to. We’ve got the spark, but she’s the only woman in town who seems to be immune to my charms. When it’s time for me to leave for my cross-country tour, I just can’t imagine not seeing her for months. So I offer her a job on the road with me.

What's the actual last thing you'd ever want your executive assistant to see you doing the morning after you had hot, drunk, angry sex with her in a terrible hotel room? Dancing around your terrible hotel room to "Come and Get Your Love" like Star-Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy - naked? Yeah. Me too. And yet, here we are.

Dear Mr. Vega: I felt it necessary to follow up on today’s meeting, since we weren’t able to speak candidly in front of your son. I was shocked to discover that you are Ryder’s dad. I think it would be best if we just pretend that we met in person for the first time today. Your son is a very bright (flirtatious and talkative) student and since his education is a top priority for both of us, I hope I can count on you to respectfully refrain from grinning at me, using that sexy tone of voice, and undressing me with your annoyingly beautiful brown eyes....

Dear Fiona: I hope this letter finds you well - and by well, I mean significantly less infuriated than you were yesterday. I’ve wanted to continue our conversation from the night we met, but there are so many things I can’t say or do, now that I’m your professor. As an anonymous letter writer, I can give you some idea of what I have planned for us, once the year is over. As an author, I can share my work in progress with you. Not for you to critique but to show you how much you mean to me. 

I moved to Chicago six months ago, determined to finally open my own bakery. My landlady was this sweet woman who treated me like her granddaughter. Then she sold the house. Now the devil himself is my landlord and neighbor, since I live in the guesthouse on his property. Declan Maxwell is moody, unreasonable, and takes himself far too seriously. Unfortunately for me, he’s also damn sexy. Then one day I come home injured from work and he surprises me by taking care of me. And kissing me. And just like that, all my best intentions go up in smoke.

I knocked up my best friend's sister. Let's start with how she decided to inform me and Pacey the news...together. Imagine that nightmare. I was going into what I thought was a hockey marketing meeting, and then bam! I'm going to be a dad and my best friend/teammate is attempting to imprint my face with his fist. Threats were tossed around, friendships were revoked, and then I was marched up to her apartment, suitcases in hand, and forced to live with her so I could take care of her every need. Now I'm finding it harder and harder not to fall for my best friend's little sister.

CEO millionaire Max Fletcher is a single dad in desperate need of a nanny. Cozy Barlow is in the middle of her self-appointed “gap year” and doing everything she can to detach from her past. But when her sister begs her to interview for the nanny position of a high-maintenance client, she doesn’t have a good enough reason to say no. And when Max locks eyes on the 20-something in a tie-dye sweat suit who pitches the idea of daydreaming all summer—he prepares to give this bad nanny the boot.

When I was a kid, my dad was the gardener for the richest man in town. His daughter, Lily Barnes, told me she could never like a guy like me. Then she kissed me and told me it would never happen again. When it happened again, she told me she could never love me because she was going to leave this place, and I would never leave my dad. We were never quite friends, not exactly enemies, and we could never quite stop secretly kissing each other. She never said goodbye before running off to try to make it as an actress. That was her dream, and I wanted her to chase it.

The quintessential question asked to every couple. And the answer is usually some bubbly, lovey dovey tale of being struck in the bum by Cupid’s arrow. My meet cute (well, not so meet cute) is slightly different. I was trolling a wealthy neighborhood in Beverly Hills, searching for someone to take me as their bride, you know, to make my arch nemesis jealous who consequently just fired me. 

Growing up, I knew my older brother’s best friend thought of me as “Logan’s kid sister”. For me, though, our next-door neighbor Colin felt like anything but a sibling. Whenever I spied on him through my bedroom window, as he banged away, shirtless, on his drum kit, I felt sensations inside me I’d never felt for my actual brother. But when we moved away and Colin’s band took off like a rocket, I knew my tweener fantasies would never become a reality.