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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

I’m a single female who’s tired of relationships ruining my life. However, there are times when a date would be helpful. If you’re a single man, preferably mid-20s to late-30s, and are in a similar situation, we might be a match. Candidate must be handsome, charming, and willing to pretend to have feelings for me (on a sliding scale, as the event requires). Ability to discuss a wide variety of topics is a plus. Must have your own transportation and a (legal) job. In exchange for your time, I will give you mine. If interested, please email me. Time is of the essence. 

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.

I thought my invitation was a birthday present from my best friend. The dress, the limousine, the red carpet...I thought they were meant for me. That was mistake number one. Then my date arrives, all gleaming cufflinks and tousled hair, steely blue eyes, and a body honed to masculine precision. Arrogant. Charming. Panty-melting. And melt, they do. Hanky-panky with a rich hottie in the back room of the event I'm crashing? Don't mind if I do.

One of Wall Street’s highest-paid traders, he may be hot as sin in his 5,000-dollar custom-made suit. But Theo is the bane of my existence. He’s arrogant, rude, and as brash as they come. As our bank’s newest star hire, he’s also after the same promotion I am. But I didn’t make it this far in a man’s world just to be passed over for an entitled egomaniac. Two can play at this game. In a surprise to exactly no one, Theo and I butt heads from the beginning–and end up losing my biggest client with a trade gone bad. 

I've been dreading this for a year. Okay, that's a lie. I've been dreading this reunion since we graduated high school 10 years ago. So why am I here, standing outside the door like the eternal wallflower I am? I'd say it's because my younger sister browbeat me into it, but the truth is, I'm tired of being a nobody. Of never taking a risk with myself and my life. And...well...maybe I'm also hoping to see him. The tall, insanely gorgeous man walking my way now. Oliver Fritz is regarded as one of Boston's sexiest doctors. I know him as the former god of our school.

Preston Michael Shaw. PMS, as I like to call him. I don’t need his job. I don’t need his fancy designer suits or his arrogance or his claims that I put a hex on him, because of course a strong, empowered woman needs to put a spell on a man. As if I want him. Pfft. He should be so lucky.

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 contract says I have to get fake-married to a Witlocke. It doesn't say which Witlocke. Apparently, any stuck-up jerk whose last name begins with W and ends with E will do. Oops, was that my out loud voice? Enter my nemesis, sinfully sexy tech mogul Donovan. We’ve been mortal enemies since third grade, but he’s all too willing to meet me at the altar, for reasons he refuses to share with me. Whatever he's planning for me, it can’t be good.

I used to believe in what we do at Mayberry Matchmakers, but now? Love is just another four-letter word. Too bad my grandmother hasn’t gotten the memo. When tech billionaire Rory Byrne approaches us, wanting to develop the matchmaking app my sister and I dreamed up (and Nana shot down), she jumps at the chance. My grandmother is nothing if not opportunistic. Of course, there’s a catch. She’ll only do it if Rory lets us matchmake him the old-fashioned way. He’s going to say no. Please God, let him say no. The last thing I want to do is matchmake an entitled rich jerk.

Arrogant. Impatient. Distractingly sexy. Mega-successful department store magnate Blake Hudson is everything I’m not looking for. Unfortunately, I may have ruined his life a little bit when I got creative on my first day as a personal shopper. And unless I want to see my new career go up in flames, I’m stuck with the world’s smuggest billionaire until I fix everything I’ve broken.