I need a guy who understands that this is all pretend, and who better than a man who can't stand me—and vice versa? Besides, Derrick is the kind of cocky, confident, successful dude-bro my gram will adore. We'll convince my ailing grandmother I’m not going to die alone, Derrick will honor that favor he owes me, and we'll part ways as enemies with no benefits. It’s a rock-solid plan...until it isn’t. 

It started when I hosted a little party for a bunch of new friends. Though “friends” might not be the right word since the invitees were all the women I’d found out my boyfriend was talking to behind my back. When the guest of honor walked in—aka my now ex—things took a turn…. Unfortunately, a stranger witnessed the whole blowout. I was in a mood that night and ended up giving this gorgeous guy an attitude, too. As if my night could get any worse, before he stormed off, he informed me he was actually my landlord.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

The things I want to do to my sweet, kindergarten-teaching, mitten-crocheting best friend Libby Collins are 10 different kinds of wrong. Maybe 20. But I'm a firm believer in teaching by example, and by the end of our first sex lesson, we've graduated to a hands-on approach to her education: my hands all over her, her hands all over me, and her hot mouth melting beneath mine as I prove to her there isn't a damned thing wrong with the way she kisses. 

“Have dinner with me.” Four words. That was all Travis Maxwell needed to charm me, even though I’d just met him. In my defense, we were kind of stuck together, and he was the hottest man I’d laid eyes on. We spent a glorious week together, knowing we'd go our separate ways in the end.

Name's Sebastian. And I make good business out of bad exes, specializing in giving broken-hearted women the sweet, hot revenge they deserve. Those whispered rumors about me and my methods? All true. I'm the chief executive mastermind of the only consulting firm that can guarantee your ex will beg you for another chance.

Ryot Bisley is my husband. Yes, the former third baseman for the Chicago Rebels and absolute heartthrob of the Windy City. That Ryot Bisley. The first time I ran into him, he was grumpy, a horrific host, and left me on his sofa with nothing but a nylon baseball flag to use as a blanket.

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.

What I should do as the new quarterback in Los Angeles: win games. What I shouldn’t do: try to win over the sexy, sassy, fiery woman who works in the VP suite for the team. I don’t always follow the good guy rules, though, especially when I want to take her home. Again. Then up against the wall. Again. Then, out to breakfast the next morning.

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.

I’ve been sacking quarterbacks since junior high and causing trouble since I was born. My college coach thinks I have a bad attitude, so he makes me take ballet lessons as punishment. If I don’t turn things around on the field next season, he’ll bench me. I have no idea what ballet has to do with football, but it turns out the real punishment is that the beautiful dance teacher refuses to get involved with me.

I realize that a social media post isn’t the usual way to secure a date to your honeymoon—for obvious reasons—but here we are. My wedding was canceled. What’s not canceled is the nonrefundable, ten-thousand-dollar all-inclusive vacation at a luxury resort, and I’m not about to let it go to waste.

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. 

What I meant to do in Vegas: Let my hair down for once and celebrate winning a medal at my first women’s hockey all-stars competition. What I actually did: Got senior prom drunk and woke up married to Brooklyn’s star winger, the great Neil Drake. He’s the heir to a billion dollars, and I barely survived my childhood. Our friendship is based strictly on hockey, takeout food, and smack talk. And now holy matrimony. We both know it can’t last - especially once his evil family gets wind of our Vegas shenanigans.

After years of scraping by, Nolan and I just landed the big break of a lifetime for our scrappy online restaurant review show. We’re going to New York for a month. Just the two of us. Together all the time. But I’ve already lost my best friend once, so I’ll do whatever it takes to resist thoroughly delicious Nolan again. Until I learn whatever it takes might cost me everything.

I need a guy who understands that this is all pretend, and who better than a man who can't stand me—and vice versa? Besides, Derrick is the kind of cocky, confident, successful dude-bro my gram will adore. We'll convince my ailing grandmother I’m not going to die alone, Derrick will honor that favor he owes me, and we'll part ways as enemies with no benefits. It’s a rock-solid plan...until it isn’t. 

Last night I made out with a gorgeous, funny, quirky older woman. Today I learned she’s the new executive chef at my restaurant. AKA my new boss. Yep, that’s the hot mess I’m in at the moment. But the chemistry between Natalie and me is even hotter. The problem? She’s a single mom focused on helping her little girl adjust to life in the big city. Dating right now—especially a co-worker—is asking for trouble. So, what’s my next move? Seduce the hell out of the woman, of course. 

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.

The things I want to do to my sweet, kindergarten-teaching, mitten-crocheting best friend Libby Collins are 10 different kinds of wrong. Maybe 20. But I'm a firm believer in teaching by example, and by the end of our first sex lesson, we've graduated to a hands-on approach to her education: my hands all over her, her hands all over me, and her hot mouth melting beneath mine as I prove to her there isn't a damned thing wrong with the way she kisses. 

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.

Bree Marks is my best friend and my secret crush. And cursed with a deadly allergy to erecto-plasm. As in, she’ll seriously swell up and die if seminal fluid even touches her. Which means finding the perfect guy to punch her V card is literally a matter of life and death. She wants a no-strings summer fling, but she needs someone she can trust. A puck buddy who isn’t going to get overly emotional. That’s where I come in. It’s a simple request, really - and one I would be happy to honor. If it weren’t for the whole life-and-death thing.

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. 

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I am the world's biggest dating failure. We're talking my last date went home with our waitress kind of failure. But I have an ace in the back pocket of my mom jeans - my sexy-as-sin best friend, NHL superstar forward, Justin Cruise. Justin owes me favors dating back to seventh grade, long before he became a hotshot with a world famous...stick. So in return for my undying platonic loyalty, all I want is an easy-peasy crash course on how to be a sex goddess.