Francine is stunned when she discovers she's been married - for the last 10 years - to Benny, her surly, nerdy frenemy she worked with one summer in Vegas. How in the world did they end up married? Though there was a certain drunken night....She's surprised to find that Benny is now a cold, wolfish billionaire. And yes, he'll sign the paperwork - for a price: She has to spend the next three weeks playing his adoring wife.   

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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. 

I never should have gone commando in that dress. I'm almost positive the rest of it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been dangling off a hotel balcony. And of course the one person to witness my mortification had to be him. Camden Cox. Sure, today he's gorgeous and wealthy, and fine, I can admit he has a great sense of humor. But once upon a time, he was the boy who loved to make my life miserable. But I'm Sophie Abbott, and if there's one thing I'm good at, it's making a mess. Only this is a disaster. Because after a wild night in Vegas, I'm pretty sure we got married.

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. 

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.

After I’m arrested for throwing a raucous party, my hockey team says I have an image problem. And I need to fix it, stat. Charity work? Check. Haircut? Sure. But I draw the line at hiring my neighbor to style me. In the first place “style” shouldn’t be a verb. And I’m tired of people who’d judge me on appearances. Vera and I don’t see eye to eye on anything. She wants me to try on clothes, while I just want to remove hers. She's distractingly pretty, with soulful eyes and a sinful mouth that likes to argue with me.

Have you ever had one of those really bad days at work? You know, one where your sexy AF boss catches you photocopying your backside in his office? No? Just me, then? I blame my bestie and partner-in-chaos. She challenged me with a not-so-innocent dare that I should’ve flat out declined. But I’m an adrenaline junkie, and now, here I am. I know it sounds crazy, and daredevil tendencies aside, I definitely went too far to get his attention. But you haven’t seen him. Colton Wolfe. My boss. Tall, dark, handsome, and with the sexiest British accent I’ve ever heard.

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. 

I’m Riley Watson, bringing a dash of sunshine here and a drop of positivity there. That’s how I live my life, focusing on the good that’s all around us if we look for it. There’s just one thing missing - Mr. Right. So I agree to try a new dating app and find my perfect match. The catch? No pictures. Fun times...until my blind date shows up. That can’t be the same man I’ve been talking to all week!