Ten years ago, I let the love of my life slip through my fingers. It’s my greatest regret, especially since she’s all but disappeared. When she walks back into my world unexpectedly, I have one mission - win her back. Whatever it takes. But the gorgeous, brilliant, tough-as-iron Shannon has secrets of her own, and a family past she’s trying to escape. Slowly but surely, I break down her walls over our sinful nights together, with a connection more passionate than ever, an intimacy more fiery than it was before.

I live my life by a few simple rules—let no one in, trust only my family, and don’t ever spend more than three nights with a woman. Those are easy enough to abide by until I meet gorgeous, captivating, and absolutely brilliant Sophie Winston and fall into a dangerous romance with the sister of the detective investigating my father’s murder.

Let me list the reasons why dating the sexy, charming pro hockey star is a bad idea: He’s one of my closest friends. All our friends are friends. The wounds I’ve got from past relationships go deep. And so do his. We’re both devoutly single -- it’s just safer for the heart that way. But there’s no reason not to bid on the gorgeous, clever athlete at the charity auction this weekend. If I win, it’ll be a "friendsdate." And I do win. I win him big. And hard. And all night long.

Ever notice that sometimes a guy will do something really stupid, like let the love of his life slip through his fingers? Yeah. I'm that guy. But the instant I run into her again I've got one goal and one goal only—a second chance. The plan? Go big or go home. Fine, at first glance, stripping naked at my ex-girlfriend's place of work might not seem like the brightest way to win her heart again. But trust me on this count—she always liked me best without any clothes on. And sometimes you've got to play to your strengths when you're fighting an uphill battle.

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I don’t trust love for a second. It’s a game, a lie, a battle. Until I meet Trey. He’s just like me—dangerous, scarred, and keeping secrets that might be darker than mine. Even though I could lose everything I’ve worked for, I can’t stay away from the broody tattoo artist. The closer we get, the more I let him see who I really am, secrets and all.

For one fantastic evening, at a masquerade party in the heart of Manhattan, I’m not the millionaire everyone wants a piece of. Fine—multimillionaire. But who’s counting all those commas? Not me, and not the most intriguing woman I've ever met, who happens to like dancing, witty banter, and hot, passionate up-against-the-wall sex as much as I do.

I wasn't in the market for a man. I definitely wasn't looking for a man like Clay Nichols, with a dirty mind and a mouth to match. But then he walked into my life one night, and he was everything I wanted. He's also exactly what I can't have. Because there's a price tag on my head. I'm a wanted woman, and I owe debts that were never mine. The dangerous men I owe have threatened to hurt anyone in my life if I don't pay up. So I work off my debts by playing cards in an underground poker ring. One so risky I shouldn't get involved with a soul.

The first time a woman stepped out of a painting, I thought I was seeing things. The second time, I thought I was going mad. The night she emerged from a Renoir, I felt something else entirely -- a deep stirring of desire, and the wish to get to know the brilliant beauty who's been trapped inside a painted garden for years. She can only come out at night in the Musée d'Orsay, where I work. There, after hours, we wander through galleries, with the Van Goghs, the Monets, and the Toulouse Lautrecs the only witnesses to our midnight kisses and, soon, our trysts.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

What’s a man to do when the one who got away comes roaring back into his life, and asks for a little help in the bedroom? Say Hell, yeah. Of course. But if she happens to be my business partner’s daughter? And she’ll be working in our practice, where we’ll be rubbing elbows every day? Also, have I mentioned she's as dynamic, brilliant, and captivatingly sexy as ever?

I was only trying to help a friend. I swear. I was legit asking for a friend who was finally ready to date again. So I did what any good friend would do. Posted it for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time - I’d weed through the candidates, and bring her my top picks. But then he responded. Is it wrong to date the guy I screened for my bestie? Not asking for a friend.

I shouldn’t want my bodyguard the way I do. His job is to protect me. It’s not to fulfill all my nighttime wishes. And so, I resist him, working hard on the hotel reopening, all while fighting the enticing pull of the powerful man who watches over me. Until the night we combust in my penthouse suite. It won’t happen again, we say the next day.

I don't mean to just blurt it out. "Why, yes, I'm engaged!" But once I say it to a potential client, there's only one logical thing to do - cast the role of my fake fiancé. Easy enough. As a casting director, my job is to find the most talented players for every part, so I choose dreamy, edgy, sexy, sarcastic Reeve. And I sign him up for one week in the role of mine. It's not as if I'll fall for him in five nights even if we get a little cozy one night at theater. It's not as if I'll want more even after a scorching afternoon in the stacks of the New York Public Library.

A collection of the three best-selling high-stakes stand-alones in the Extravagant series!