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.

Five years ago, my fiancé disappeared. He left me with a wedding dress I’d never wear. Left me with the kind of scars that can’t be healed. The man I built my future on vanished like a ghost. All that remained were my broken heart and a million unanswered questions. 

One night only - that was the deal we made. But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another. Until I walked into the office to learn he just bought my company. 

I couldn't have scripted a more perfect night. For one fantastic evening, at a masquerade party in the heart of Manhattan, I'm not the millionaire everyone wants a piece of. Fine - multimillionaire. But who's counting all those commas? Not me, and not the most intriguing woman I've ever met. And that's why I'm eager to get to know her more, since my mystery woman seems to like me for me, rather than for my huge...bank account. Everything's coming up aces. Until the next day, when things get a little complicated. (Newsflash - a lot complicated.)

When you think about how easy it is to lose keys, phones, sunglasses and your dignity on social media, you might figure it'd be a cinch for me to ditch my V Card. You'd be wrong. At 25, I run a successful business, live in a fantastic apartment, and have fabulous friends to go out with any night of the week. And yet I'm still a card-carrying member of a club I don't want to belong to anymore. Good thing I know just the man for the deflowering job - my brother’s business partner and best friend.

He's my business partner, my good friend, and the man I've craved for years. But I've resisted the sexy Brit, and I plan to keep up my walls because I've been there, done that, and I know how much it hurts when you let someone into your heart. Then an opportunity comes along for us to snag the business deal of a lifetime. The catch? We need to pretend we're married to pull off this high-stakes deal. 

I kissed my father’s best friend, and it kind of didn’t go well. Not only because he’s 18 years older than me - but he also didn’t like it. Not one bit. In my defense, I didn’t mean to fall for him. It just happened. Nathaniel Weaver is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen with enough charisma to blind the sun. He’s bigger than the world, owns half of it, and conquered the other half. He was forbidden. Wrong. So I totally got over him. Or so I told myself. Until we’re forced to get married.

Let me just say - none of this was supposed to happen. I didn't expect the letter to go viral. I didn't think anyone would figure out who Dear Sexy Ex was. And I especially never thought he would find out about it. Yeah, bit of a miscalculation there. But see, I need the money to fund my brand new venture. And Dear Sexy Ex, well, it turns out he needs me to save his business. By becoming his fake fiancée.  

It was the summer of my life. I’d met the guy of my dreams. Unfortunately, he was the son of my uppity employer - and very much off-limits. But Gavin was a rebel. He knew his mother would disown him if she found out about us; in his eyes, we just had to be careful. He never treated me as his mother did - like hired help. Instead, Gavin put me on a pedestal and loved me harder than I’d ever been loved in my life. 

After Violet saves the day with the highest bid, I don't even give her a two-minute warning before I kiss her in front of the whole crowd, and then announce that she's my girlfriend. Which would be fine, except my agent tells me we've got to keep up the act while he's negotiating my contract. Violet takes one for the team and pretends to be mine, but our boyfriend-girlfriend scrimmage quickly turns into a full contact sport, and I want it to go into overtime. The problem is - I've been riding the bench for years.

Every man knows there are lines you don't cross. Like this one - don't bang your boss' little sister. Too bad I didn't know sexy, clever, irresistible London is related to the guy who signs my paychecks. Would have been helpful to have that intel before I took her out on that first date, before I kissed her on the beach, before I made plans to take her home that night. 

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.  

The second the test-the-sexy-scenes offer landed in my lap, I said yes. After all, I've been damn curious about a few things I've read in romance novels. Do buttons truly go flying across the floor when you rip off a guy's shirt? Is staircase nookie hella hot, or does it leave you with a big old bruise mark on your back? And don’t even get me started on all that panty shredding, and whether it even works. Time to find out as I embark on Project Sexy Scenes Research, at the request of my hotshot book editor bestie. All I need is a willing scene partner.

Finding a good roommate through a classified ad isn’t as easy as it sounds. I was starting to lose hope. Until a knock at my door came, and God answered my prayers. Except...uh...wrong prayer, God. I’d definitely requested the big guy find me a drop-dead gorgeous man on more than one occasion...just not as my roommate. Declan Tate talked me into interviewing him anyway. While he was amusing and charismatic, I wouldn’t have been comfortable living with a man, so I regretfully declined. Then, cupcakes showed up at my door.

That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star? Turns out he’s my son’s new music teacher. The night I met Campbell all I knew was he played my body the same way he strummed a guitar — like he owned it. Now I’ve learned he’s the man coming to my house twice a week to teach my kid — the best music lessons money can buy. Time to turn down the volume on the late-night shenanigans with the sexy single dad. Only that’s easier said than done....