I’ve sworn off men to focus on my dream job that starts on Monday. But my best friend talks me into a final night of fun—a blind date. I only agree because the guy is going to work as a doctor in Africa. It’s the best date of my life. Dr. Africa makes me laugh and swoon, and I want to give him a thorough physical examination. He turns into Dr. One Night Stand, and I’m not sad about it. Monday morning, I’m enthusiastic and excited, until I bump into...you guessed it.

My boyfriend is getting married. Okay, technically he’s my ex-boyfriend. Two months ago he decided he wanted a break. I still thought he was my happily ever after. On any other day, knowing he was gone for good would be the worst thing that could possibly happen. But not today. Because not only is my boyfriend getting married—his bride is my best friend. And they’ve sent me an invitation. There’s no way I’m going to attend. Not even when a deliciously handsome stranger tells me he needs to go as my plus one.

Gabriel Ferrara is tall and handsome, and most days she wants to stab her eyes out with a pencil, anything to stop her seeing his perfection. How any female could work in these conditions and not be completely besotted with him is beyond her. Then he opens his mouth and she remembers why. He's bossy and sarcastic, with a wit so sharp it could cut glass. Every weekend is the same . . . while he's off living his dream life, she's counting down the days until Monday when she sees him again.

When my grandmother found out she didn’t have long to live, she embarked on a crazy trip—jumping out of airplanes and scuba diving with sharks. After I repeatedly voiced my concern, Gram blocked me—her own grandson—on text and social media, leaving me only her travel companion Eleanor’s number.

The first time I met Caine West was in a bar. He noticed me looking his way and mistakenly read my scowling as checking him out. When he attempted to talk to me, I set him straight -- telling him what I thought of his lying, cheating, egomaniacal ass. You see, the gorgeous jerk had wined and dined my best friend-smooth talking her into his bed, all along failing to mention that he was married. He deserved every bit of my tongue-lashing and more for what he'd done.

It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. Something blue. I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old". Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true.

The first time I laid eyes on Henley James, I was mesmerized. The chemistry between us was like nothing I’d ever felt. Impeccable suit, dimpled smile. He was charming and gorgeous, sophisticated and suave. He gave me his business card and asked me to call. His dating game was strong; I was gone from his first smile. I’d love to tell you our date was a raging success, but it wasn’t. Far from it. I decided right there on that day that Henley James and I would forever be mortal enemies; I would never think of him again.

Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning. I was late for the first day at my new job - a job I’d now have to compete for, even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons. She’d ticketed a long line of cars - except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine. Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine.

I'm writing this letter because it's highly doubtful I'll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. So, here goes. We're totally wrong for each other. You're the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I'm just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England. But here's the thing... for some bloody reason, I can't stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.

We met in a trapped elevator. Emmett was on his way to work, sophisticated and handsome in his tailored suit and tie. I was on my way to the sperm bank. Awkward, right? At 35, my life hadn't taken the path I thought it would and I was tired of waiting - I wanted a baby. And I was ready to take matters into my own hands to make it happen. After our ill-fated elevator encounter, Emmett insisted on taking me to dinner - he also insisted on something else - that I ditch my plan involving a turkey baster and let him do the job. He would be my baby daddy.

Rule number one for having a one-night stand: Don’t fall for the girl. After a lengthy dating slump, I finally met someone who sparked my interest. Well, first the sparks flew when we argued. Later in the evening those sparks ignited into something more. I was drawn to Devyn, in a way I hadn’t felt in a really long time. Needless to say, I was disappointed when she abruptly left after our amazing night together. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But she hadn’t even given me her number. In a city with eight-million people, I figured I’d never see Devyn again.

It all started with an unexpected phone call. Two years after my fiancé passed away in an accident, his father died suddenly, leaving Brad’s adult special-needs brother with no one to care for him. The next thing I knew, I was on a cross-country drive to New Hampshire where I’d be moving in to look after Scottie until I could get him into a group home. The last thing I ever expected? I wouldn’t be taking care of him alone.

We met in the least likely of places. It started out innocently enough. I was “ScreenGod”, and she was “Montana”, but of course those weren’t our actual names, just the virtual cloaks we hid behind. Logging in at night and talking to her was my escape - my sanctuary. Her real name was Eden, I’d soon come to find out. From the first time we connected online, I found myself transfixed. She was an addiction. At first, we knew nothing about each other’s real identities...and she was adamant that we keep things that way.

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.

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.