Beck Svensson fired me right before rent was due and in the middle of a rainstorm. That’s why he’s at the top of my hate list, along with pickles, people who steal other people’s lunches out of the office fridge, and trying to fold a fitted sheet. But you know what? It’s fine - totally fine. It’s freedom! I could do anything! I could start a bakery or farm the mushrooms growing in my soggy apartment carpet. Or I could just show up at the temp office at hate o’clock in the morning for a new assistant job.

I’m Poppy Woodstock. Romance author and wholehearted believer in Happily Ever Afters. A terminal case of writer’s block should be my biggest worry. Then I crash into him - literally - and fall into the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Connor Bradley. Thief, rebel...and my new neighbor. One slip with the bad boy next door, and my life becomes stranger than any fiction I could ever write. I impulsively tell his mother that I’m his fiancée, forcing him to help me.

Mistaken identity, drunk texts, and hysterical mishaps...just another day in my life. Girls all over the world spill the tea to me about their most intimate questions. They thank me for talking about sex with them. For fixing their love lives. I wonder if I’d still be a relationship influencer if they knew what a train wreck my own love life is? If I was writing anyone else advice, it would say things like: Never drunk-text your ex-boyfriend. No, seriously, that’s a terrible idea.

I just moved in with my billionaire best friend (and secret crush), Oliver Humphries. He’s the all-star. The jock. The golden boy. And I’m no match. I’m the nerdy, frizzy-haired, not-so-skinny friend. The moment I met him at 14, I was in L-O-V-E. I’m under no illusion I stand a chance. Living with him? Not a problem. 

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.

The first time I met Merrick Crawford was during my job interview. Well, technically, I’d met him 20 minutes earlier when he’d barged into a fitting room a few doors down from my appointment. I yelled. He yelled. After an argument while standing in my bra, I proceeded to smash the door into the gorgeous jerk, trying to yank it shut. As you might imagine, I was freaked out when I discovered that the rude guy was my potential new boss. Yet he didn’t seem to recognize me. Or so I thought.... Until we wound up bickering again during my interview and he told me to go sniff my armpit.

He’s the devil himself: Damon Copeland (he practically carries a pitchfork), fiery-hot, a torturously sexy body, and a killer smile (if he ever smiled). He’s also the top dog at my father’s company and my brother’s best friend. Oh, and someone I accidentally slept with. In my defense, that was before I knew who he was and before he hired me. Now, my one-night stand has turned into my boss. What’s worse, he’s Mr. Bosshole Superior: brutish, broody, and impatient. He’s also 6’4". And I’m pretty sure he hates me. But it’s not as if I planned any of this.

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. 

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.

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. 

Secrets are my life. Perception is everything, and I'm extraordinarily good at helping my clients hide their dirt—until him. Bad press about your latest movie flop? I can twist it. Need to repair your image after an embarrassing walk of shame? I got you. Reputation refresh? That’s me too. But my latest client challenges me in ways I never anticipated. Carson Steen. The heir apparent at the center of a media firestorm that’s taking down his family’s amusement park kingdom. I can help the drop-dead sexy, danger-loving, motorcycle-riding jerk…if he’ll let me. 

It’s official. I’m totally hopeless at love, parenting, and life. Single mom? Check. Massive debt? Check. A sassy daughter who inherited my gift of snark? Ugh. Check. I work three jobs, go to school, and do my best to be in my kid’s life. Men are the last thing on my mind. I wouldn’t have time to look at a man even if he fell into my lap. Until he does. Thanks to my spawn who keeps calling some famous relationship expert, airing my disastrous life in her podcast. 

No hot water? Check. Missed the train? Check. Broke my heel? Check. Dropped my coffee? Check. My first day of my new job can’t possibly go worse, right? Wrong. When I meet Parker Scott, I realize this job is going to be a lot harder than I thought it would be. Quitting isn’t an option; I’ll have to learn to deal with the three Bossholes in one way or another.