A daredevil prince wants to pay me mega-bucks to train him to hold his breath underwater for 10 minutes? Sign me up. Except I’m a magician, not a stunt consultant. My record-beating dive without air was a trick. Of course, I can’t tell that to my client, the royally hot Anatolio Cezaroff, a.k.a. Tigger. Not if I want to be able to pay my rent. Also, I’m not exactly comfortable around germs. All germs, including those lurking on uber-attractive men. So falling for my gorgeous client is out of the question, and I fully intend to keep my distance.

At 35, Marcus Carelli has it all: wealth, power, and the kind of looks that leave women breathless. A self-made billionaire, he heads one of the largest hedge funds on Wall Street and can take down major corporations with a single word. The only thing he’s missing? A wife who’d be as big of an achievement as the billions in his bank account.

My name is Blue - insert a mood-related joke here - and I’m a femme fatale in training. My goal is to join the CIA. Unfortunately, I have a tiny issue with birds, and the closest I’ve come to my dream is working for a government agency that’s disturbingly up-to-speed on everyone’s sexts, rants in private Facebook groups, and secret family chocolate-chip cookie recipes.

My grandparents’ grumpy neighbor is as hot as the lethal Florida sun. And like the sun, he’s bad for me. My taste in men is the worst - just ask my ex and his restraining order. What am I doing in Florida with my grandparents, you wonder? Well, my best friend is an octopus, and he needs a bigger tank. So, I took a job at an aquarium in the Sunshine State. I didn’t expect that sexy, long-haired grump to make out with me during a late-night swim at the beach. And the last thing I expected was to run into him on my first day, at my new job, where he’s my boss.

A single dad, a model, and a comedian walk into a bar.... They’re all Owen Brodie. It’s only funny if you aren’t the hilarious struggling comedian who has been hired to be his son’s nanny for the stand-up tour. 

I achieve everything I set my mind to. Escape my childhood circumstances and come out on top? Check. Become one of the most powerful billionaires on Wall Street? Check. Meet the picture-perfect woman and make her my wife? Well, I might've hit a snag on that one. When an angry, curvy redhead crashes my blind date, I should just forget her and move on. After all, she's the opposite of what I'm looking for: quirky, awkward, and completely uncharmed by my riches.

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.

He's a billionaire heir. A grump supreme. Hater of people. Bigger hater of peopling with people. And my new fake boyfriend. "Emotionally unavailable" doesn’t even begin to describe Hayes Rutherford. He has more defenses than a nuclear missile silo. And he’s the ultimate catch of the century. At least, according to his bank statement. My job’s simple: Keep all interested ladies away from the walled-off heir, by pretending to be his one true love. But you know what they say about fake-dating a billionaire: It’s all fun and games, until the scandals start.

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.

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.

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. 

It’s official. I, Ainsley James, am crazy. Desperate and crazy. It’s the only explanation as to why I’m nauseous, standing outside Maverick Lexington’s door. I mean, it’s possible the stories about his deck of playing cards - with the letters IOU scrawled across the back - are just rumors of the ruthless quid pro quo deals he barters. But the flutters in my stomach know better. Maverick is as cold as they come. But, I need one of those cards. I need to owe Maverick Lexington a favor....

Call it superstition, but when a guy bats as hot as Brooks Elliott, you don’t mess with what’s working. And what’s working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field. So when I hear he’s planning to ditch his V-card now that he’s been traded to baseball’s lovable losers - a.k.a. my home team and my reason for living every March through October - I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do. I make a plan to stop him. But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him. Lots. And lots. And lots of time.

Five hockey players, a cabin in the woods...and little old me, Winnie Berlin. Sounds like the start of a fantasy, right? But it's not. It's my reality. It all started when I got lost in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. A wicked thunderstorm sent my car mud sliding into a ditch, and for a girl whose survival skills involve finding the nearest Starbucks, I was in deep trouble. Forced to abandon my car in search of help, I stumbled upon a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

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.