Our futures are arranged, our lives planned to the letter. But each of us is about to break tradition, throw the rules aside, and follow our hearts. Being royalty might mean a life in service to our country, but it doesn’t mean a life without love.

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.

She‘s everything I swore to stay away from. But I was never good at resisting temptation. When I picked up my life and moved to California, I left my hometown, my past, and my heart back in Sunrise, Montana. I never wanted to look back. Didn’t want to look forward either. All I needed was the job to keep me going. Until Lark sparked something inside me. But she’s nearly half my age, and I’m too much for her. Too broken. Too selfish to give her what she deserves. 

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.

The biggest rivalry in Sunrise, Montana is the feud between the ranch families of the Rykers and the Wildes. And it’s only grown stronger over the years. So what happens when a Wilde and a Ryker wake up in Vegas, in the same bed, hungover, and...married? Sutton Wilde and Sera Ryker are in for one Wild Ride.

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.

You might think the problem would be waking up in Vegas, hungover, next to a beautiful woman who’s wearing your boxer briefs, and finding out you married her. But you’d be wrong. I, Nolan Cassidy, international charmer, and maker of mischief have fallen head over heels for Cora Delaney. I want to be married to the lass. So, you might think the problem would be that she wants an annulment. But, again, you’d be wrong. None of that is the problem. I’m a problem. My boxing days may be behind me, but the fight never left me. And nothing is going to stand in my way. 

The last person on earth I want to be stranded with is Gianni Lupo. But, thanks to the blizzard of the century, I’m trapped in a roadside motel room with that cocky bastard for two straight days, and with one small bed. Some women might thank Mother Nature for delivering a polar vortex that maroons them with six feet of solid muscle, those deep blue eyes, that sexy grin - but not me. I’ve known Gianni Lupo all my life, and he’s never brought me anything but bad luck, and trouble. I should have known what the disastrous end result would be.

Nora Stephens' life is books—she’s read them all—and she is not that type of heroine. Not the plucky one, not the laidback dream girl, and especially not the sweetheart. In fact, the only people Nora is a heroine for are her clients, for whom she lands enormous deals as a cutthroat literary agent, and her beloved little sister Libby.

Dear Sexy AF Intern, I know you don't care that I'm the CEO of this company, and you're just an intern. I also know you're not impressed by my power or my wealth, and that's fine. You think you've got me all figured out from working alongside me for two weeks, but you don't know me. Not really. You don't know that I'm a single dad to twin toddlers, or that those two little girls matter more to me than this entire hotel chain. I'm not interested in starting something deep and meaningful, but what I am interested in is the way your body reacts to mine when we're in the same room.

I was never supposed to see him again. Him being the man wearing the perfectly tailored suit, who oozed an intoxicating mixture of wealth, rebellion, and sex appeal. One night. No strings. No names. Still riding the high from last night, I walk in to meet my new client, and he’s wearing that same dangerous smirk. Yes, I’m consulting for Callahan Sharpe. That Callahan Sharpe. Billionaire heir who abides by no rules, bucks convention, and is determined to complete one final project to honor his late father’s legacy. Luckily, and unluckily for me, I’m tasked to help.

I knew it was a bad idea to get on the elevator. Because now, I have three problems. Number one, I’m stuck in the elevator. Number two, I’m soaking wet from the rain. Number three, he got in before the doors closed. Miles Humphries. My neighbor. The one I hate. The biggest jerk I’ve ever met. Mr. Bachelor-for-Life and I, Rose Taylor, are like night and day. Imagine my jaw dropping when he asks me to be his fake fiancée. And move in with him. Together with my cat. Hello? That’s disaster waiting to happen. But then he makes me an offer I can’t refuse.

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.

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.

It was the perfect plan. I needed a wife - temporarily - in order to inherit the family business. And she needed a favor - the kind that takes nine months to deliver. We had it all worked out, from the no-touching policy on our wedding night (her rule) to the no-falling-in-love decree (mine). She’d marry me, I’d give her the means to have the baby she’d always wanted, and one year later we’d amicably part ways with no hassle, no demands, and certainly no regrets. After all, Bianca DeRossi and I are experts at infuriating one another - we’ve been doing it since we were kids.