The last thing Vaughan Hewson expects to find when he returns to his childhood home is a broken hearted bride in his shower, let alone the drama and chaos that come with her. Lydia Green doesn't know whether to scream or cry in a corner. Discovering the love of your life is having an affair on your wedding day is bad enough. Finding out it's with his best man is another thing all together. Just when this runaway bride has nowhere left to turn, a handsome stranger offers her a broad, muscular shoulder to cry on.

I’m the type of girl who’s given up on fairy tales. So when Beck – the hot new busboy at work - starts flirting with me, I know better than to get my hopes up. Happily ever afters aren’t for the average. I learned that the hard way. But how can I be expected to resist a man who can quote Austen, loves making me laugh, and seems to be everything hot and good in this world? Only there’s so much more to him than that. Billionaire playboy? Check. Troubled soul? Check.

When Susie Bowen inherits a charming fixer-upper from her aunt, she’s excited to start living her best HGTV life. But when she opens the door to find that her contractor is none other than her ex’s best friend, Lars—the same man who witnessed their humiliating public breakup six months ago—she isn’t exactly eager to have anyone around whose alliance is with the enemy. But beggars can't be choosers, and the sooner the repairs are done, the sooner she can get back to embracing singledom.

When a vicious attack leaves 25-year-old Clementine Johns with no memory, she’s forced to start over. Now she has figure out who she was and why she made the choices she did - which includes leaving the supposed love of her life, tattoo artist Ed Larsen, only a month before. Ed can hardly believe it when his ex shows up at his tattoo parlor with no memory of their past, asking about the breakup that nearly destroyed him. The last thing he needs is more heartache, but he can’t seem to let her go again. Should they walk away for good, or does their love deserve a repeat performance?

I’m falling for the father of the baby I’m carrying. The problem is: it’s not my baby. And the broody widower is not looking for a long-term partner. As a surrogate, the deal was that I’d only be in England long enough to give birth. At first, the man seemed as pretentious as his name: Sigmund Benedictus. He and I butted heads. Sig challenged my intentions, accused me of just wanting to do this for the money. Gradually, he learned to trust me.