Would I like to know what all the sexy times fuss is about? Heck yes. Do I want to lose my virginity to a prince out to ruin my plans? Or risk breaking the heart of a man I'll have to leave behind? Hell. No. I'm already living on borrowed time. If the firstborn curse on my family is real, I only have six months to ensure my twin sister lives happily ever after. But Jeffrey wants to slam the brakes on my sister's romance with his brother and force me to stay in bed until I recover from a touch of pneumonia.

She claims to hate me more than karaoke and liverwurst combined, and that's before she finds out I'm her new boss...Yes, Princess Alexandra and I have both been keeping big secrets. The spoiled royal bit is just our cover, a smokescreen we hide behind to keep our counterintelligence work from the people we love. Being spies, we can't let anyone too close. But close is exactly what we'll be pretending to be on our first mission posing as lovers. I honestly can't decide which will be harder - taking down a notorious drug lord or keeping my growing attraction to Alexandra under wraps.

Two days after my boyfriend dumps me, my business goes belly up, and the sperm bank declines my credit card, a gorgeous rock star offers to whisk me away for two weeks of hot, steamy, all-expenses paid...therapy. I should say no. I’m not looking for a fling. I want a man who’ll be a father to the baby I’m desperate to conceive. Or, at the very least, a guy willing to knock me up before we go our separate ways. 

Reasons why I should not be drawn to Troy Serrano. Number one: He’s obnoxious. Number two: We were enemies more than a decade ago. Number three: He’s my friend’s ex-boyfriend. I could go on and on, really. When my boss gives me an unwanted assignment, and tells me it involves spending time with the grandson of one of our residents, the grandson turns out to be Troy. Lucky me. Four hours a week of having to deal with his insufferable personality and unsolicited advice - the only consolation is getting to stare at his annoyingly gorgeous face, in between our many arguments.

Pop quiz: You just banged a rock star you vowed to loathe until the end of time. What’s next? Hint: You don’t agree to be his fake girlfriend. And you certainly don’t fall in love.

Advice from my future self: Don’t ask your best guy friend to give you nookie lessons. Oops. Too late. I already begged my rock star BFF to give me lessons in seduction. And sweet, strong, always-has-my-back Shep already let me down easy, proving I have zero game, even with people who profess to care about me. Now, I’ll never live down my embarrassment or figure out why I’m a failure with the opposite sex. Or so I assume…until Shep changes his mind, agreeing to three weeks of red-hot study buddy time before he goes on tour and we part ways as friends.

He's cold, hard, and undeniably arrogant. That's how Andrew Blake's best friends describe him. Bad luck for me that I'm his new assistant. Nothing I do is good enough. I'm beginning to wonder if there's a heart in that tall, hard, gorgeous body of his. After work, I'm complaining about him to my new best friend - the bartender at the pub, near the office. Guess who's seated behind me, and has heard every gripe, grumble and grievance? By the look in Andrew's eye, I can't tell if I'm going to get fired or kissed.

Note to self - do not bang your best guy friend in the limo on the way to the swanky Vegas hotel. I give myself very good advice. Too bad I suck at taking it. If only Colin and I hadn't drunk so much whiskey, if only I'd kept that red bikini in my suitcase, if only his evil ex-girlfriend hadn't come sniffing around making me feel territorial and protective. Not that my bad boy rock star best friend is any help. Walking around looking ridiculously sexy, telling me I'm perfect in that panty-melting voice of his when we both swore we’d never do anything to put our friendship at risk.

Deacon Hunter is domineering, condescending, and infuriating. And yet I can’t seem to keep my panties on for five minutes when we’re alone together. He keeps melting them right off. With that sexy voice, those confident hands, the way he brings my body wildly to life, he’s proved my libido hasn’t gone into permanent post-divorce hibernation after all.

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.

I’m the station’s youngest fire chief, a grown man, and fully in my right mind - which means I’m not going to fall for the one who got away. That’s not the kind of person I am. Second chances are like skipping leg day - I don’t do that. Ever. But I wasn’t counting on Naomi buying me at the firefighter charity auction. Now I’m forced into a month of dates with the one woman who cuts through my defenses like no one else, and I’m starting to think maybe she’s right...maybe we are different people than the teenagers who failed at love. 

Thou shalt not bang your best friend. That commandment would be a lot easier if Maddie wasn’t the sexiest siren ever to wade into a tide pool. Or if I was good at resisting temptation. I’m the troublemaker, the firefighter who enjoys getting a little too close to the flames. And the trouble is double, since Maddie’s sister is about to marry my brother.

Show of hands, ladies - who has time for the one who got away? Not me. I’m a busy woman. It’s wedding season in Bliss River and my catering business is slammed. The last thing I need is a blast from the past, sweeping into my perfectly ordered life, talking sweet and acting even sweeter, making me think about kissing so often I start to wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Spoiler alert: There is. 

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.

Hockey star Max Yearwood was everything I needed at the time - fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months, since he’d signed with a new team 3,000 miles away. Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right? Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.