Esther is nearing thirty, with a great job and a flat she shares with her two best friends, Bibi and Louise. But her life is missing that special someone. Tired of being single and sick of bad date after bad date, she thinks she’s found the answer to her romance problem in an old women's magazine. According to the magazine’s dating column, there are seven archetypes a woman will date before finding Mr. Right.

Love. Sucks. I don’t know where I went wrong. Whether it was letting a man convince me that suddenly, the things I’ve never wanted are right for me, or if simply believing the best in the person who I wasted three years of my life on was what lead me here.

Five hockey players, a cabin in the woods...and little old me, Winnie Berlin. Sounds like the start of a fantasy, right? But it's not. It's my reality. It all started when I got lost in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. A wicked thunderstorm sent my car mud sliding into a ditch, and for a girl whose survival skills involve finding the nearest Starbucks, I was in deep trouble. Forced to abandon my car in search of help, I stumbled upon a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

They say your first kiss should be earned. Mine was stolen by a devil in a masquerade mask under the black Chicago sky. They say the vows you take on your wedding day are sacred. Mine were broken before we left church. They say your heart only beats for one man. Mine split and bled for two rivals who fought for it until the bitter end. I was promised to Angelo Bandini, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Chicago Outfit. Then taken by Senator Wolfe Keaton, who held my father’s sins over his head to force me into marriage.

Mark Chan this. Mark Chan that. Writer and barista Emily Hung is tired of hearing about the great Mark Chan, the son of her parents’ friends. You’d think he single-handedly stopped climate change and ended child poverty from the way her mother raves about him. But in reality, he’s just a boring, sweater-vest-wearing engineer, and when they’re forced together at Emily’s sister’s wedding, it’s obvious he thinks he’s too good for her. But now that Emily is her family’s last single daughter, her mother is fixated on getting her married and she has her sights on Mark.

I’ve got a list of people I absolutely don’t ever want to be stuck with on a boat, or a plane, or a train, and it starts and ends with the broody, grumpy, too-sexy-for-my-own good Axel Huxley. Also known as this romance novelist’s number one nemesis. The man is legendary for his mighty pen and his even mightier scowl. I tried to work together with the cocky thriller writer once upon a time, but the two of us are like vodka and good decisions. We don’t play well together.

Knox Holland is in a jam. After an incredible first year on the pro motocross circuit, he should be on top of the world. Instead, his bad reputation has landed him without a team. He's untouchable and desperate to turn it around. Which is how he ends up at my gym asking me to train him. As a college gymnast with two Olympic medals to my name, I know a thing or two about the pressure to succeed. Last season I choked and then injured myself before I could show the world that I'm not a twenty-year-old has-been.

If anyone ever said being an adult was easy, they hadn't been one long enough. Diana Casillas can admit it: she doesn't know what the hell she's doing half the time. How she's made it through the last two years of her life without killing anyone is nothing short of a miracle. Being a grown-up wasn't supposed to be so hard.

Five years ago, Lady Violet Grey and Lord James Audley met, fell in love, and got married. Four years ago, they had a fight to end all fights, and have barely spoken since. Their once-passionate love match has been reduced to one of cold, detached politeness. But when Violet receives a letter that James has been thrown from his horse and rendered unconscious at their country estate, she races to be by his side - only to discover him alive and well at a tavern, and completely unaware of her concern.

Gigi Graham has exactly three goals: qualify for the women's national hockey team, win Olympic gold, and step out of her famous father's shadow. So far, so good, except for two little things. Fine—a little thing and a big, grumpy thing. She needs to improve her game behind the net, and she needs help from Luke Ryder. Ryder is six-foot five, built, opinionated, rude . . . and sexy as hell. But he's still the enemy.

He was the mysterious dark knight, always swooping in to save me when I needed it the most. I was the troubled girl with scars and a bleeding heart. He was the gifted guitarist destined for big things. I was the small-town girl battling her demons. He was my earth, always keeping me grounded. I was his sky, always just out of his reach. Our love was everything I wished for—until I destroyed it.

Chloe Brown is a chronically ill computer geek with a goal, a plan, and a list. After almost - but not quite - dying, she’s come up with seven directives to help her “Get a Life”, and she’s already completed the first: finally moving out of her glamorous family’s mansion. The next items?

Lauren Fox is the bookkeeper for Cold World, a tourist destination that's always a winter wonderland despite being located in humid Orlando, Florida. Sure, it’s ranked way below any of the trademarked amusement parks and maybe foot traffic could be better. But it’s a fun place to work, even if “fun” isn’t exactly Lauren’s middle name.

He proposed . . . and I said yes. Normally a jovial occasion for a couple in love, but this proposal has a very different feel. Because the man that I'll be calling my husband blew into town with one thing on his mind . . . to make my life a living nightmare. So why did I say yes? Well, because we both need something from each other. Namely, I want the farm land he currently owns, and he needs a wife in order to inherit his family cabin in his grandfather’s will. So as he so eloquently put it, my hand, for his land.

I should have known I was in trouble when I backed my old, beat-up truck into the shiny Range Rover. The driver looked like a gorgeous fallen angel–one who’d been booted right out of paradise for being a giant prick. Good thing I’ll never have to see him again.