His name is Royal, but he's no prince charming. He's not even a prince - though you could say I loved him once upon a time. He was my older brother's best friend. Growing up, he sat at our dinner table every Sunday, teased me mercilessly, and pretended I annoyed him. When I was old enough, he took me on my first date. Royal taught me how to drive. Escorted me to my junior prom. Gave me my first kiss...among other things. He was my first taste of toe-curling, all-consuming, can't-sleep love.

The moment Jude Warner walked into my life, he was just some handsome stranger in an expensive suit. A moment later I discovered he was my neighbor, both of us new to the building. Then he was the knight in shining armor who rescued my place from a late-night plumbing fiasco. The prince charming who offered me refuge and ice cream during a storm-fueled power outage. The bona-fide saint who volunteered to accompany me to my crazy sister’s wedding back in North Carolina. Falling for him was easy. Finding out exactly who he was? Earth-shattering.

The last time my father beat me to a bloody pulp was the night he walked in on me with his woman in his bed. To be fair, she seduced me. And to be honest, I liked it. But to CPS, I was a victim. They shipped me to Utah, where my estranged mother lived with her husband and two sister-wives. And that's when I met her. My innocent, wholesome, perfect step-sister. Well, one of many. But Waverly stood out because just like me, we'd been fighting a losing battle our entire lives. Falling for her was a mistake, but shit, it's not like I ever made good decisions.

Dear Melrose, The first time I met you, you were a stranger. The second time, you were my roommate. The third time, you made it clear you were about to become the biggest thorn my side had ever known. You sing way too loud in the shower and use all the hot water. You’re bossy as hell. You make my life all kinds of complicated. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. Truthfully...I can’t stop wanting you. I was going to tell you this.

He said it would only hurt a little... On her 16th birthday, Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel. On my 22nd, I pricked mine on the needle of a tattoo machine wielded by a beautifully complicated man who would go on to become my ruin.

When some pretty little thing shows up at my doorstep with a suitcase, claiming she rented my house for the summer, I waste no time informing her that my house isn't for rent. Some Internet jack*ss scammed her out of all her money, but that's not my problem. Only when I find her sleeping in her car a couple days later, I can't turn my back. I make her an offer: room and board in exchange for working on my ranch. She agrees, and I open my doors to a girl who sings too loud, sticks her nose where it doesn't belong, and distracts me with her tight jeans and those full lips.

What I meant to do: quietly divorce my lout of a husband and then have a child all on my own. What happens instead: my crush comes back to town when I’m at my most vulnerable. After too many cocktails, I ask him to be my baby’s father. In my defense, it’s been a rough couple of months. Seeing Matteo Rossi again after 14 years has done a number on my emotions. And my libido. In the morning, I’m hoping he’s forgotten the whole thing. But no such luck. In fact, Matteo has a few clarifying questions. And a few naughty ideas, too....

Dear Isaiah, eight months ago, you were just a soldier about to be deployed and I was just a waitress, sneaking you a free pancake and hoping you wouldn't notice that my gaze was lingering a little too long. But you did notice. We spent one life-changing week together before you left, and we said goodbye on day eight, exchanging addresses at the last minute. I saved every letter you wrote me, your words quickly becoming my religion. But you went radio silent on me months ago, and then you had the audacity to walk into my diner yesterday and act like you'd never seen me in your life.

Rhett Carson was as cold as the ice on which he skated. He was as calloused as the hands that shot the goals that won world championships. He was also damaged. And broken. And he didn't know it, but I knew all about him...and his unfortunate connection with my estranged older brother. I knew why he was so bitter and angry. I knew why he was so cold hearted. But I didn't know why I let myself fall in love with him. And I didn't know why I couldn't stop - even when he told me to.

The name on the screen was "Absinthe". But I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late-night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the filthiest little...mutually satisfying exchanges...I'd ever experienced in my life. We'd never met. Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, "You wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?"

Rule Number 1: Do Not Sleep with Clients. I was the best agent in the industry. More ruthless and cutthroat than any arrogant bastard you'd ever met. The top actors in Hollywood came to me to get signed. When I saw James Ryne, America's Sweetheart, standing across the bar, I wanted her body like I'd never wanted anything before. I broke rule number one. But, after all, I was a man. No one had ever mistaken me for a saint.

For me, family is a curse. My father and brother made my life hell. My mother’s untimely death still keeps me up at night. Now that my brother, Donovan, has been killed in an accident, I can forget the past. The last remnant is the childhood home I’ve inherited—and which I intend to burn to the ground. The only obstacle? Anneliese Nielsen, Donovan’s fiancée.

To be fair, I didn’t know he was my boss when I slept with him. I thought he was just the kind stranger offering me a place to stay. But one night in Misha Orlov’s hotel room got me way more than I bargained for.

Admittedly, it was a moment of weakness on my part. But even the strong-willed have been known to fall for a hard body underneath a tailored suit and a five o’clock shadow coating a sharp jawline. It didn’t matter that Jackson St. James was nothing but trouble. Trouble was just my type. Been there. Done him. Not making that mistake again. We were friends, a low-key affair we designed ourselves—over before we began. After all, together we made no sense. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll surprise me. He has before.... We may have started with a kiss, but how will we end?

A successful writer accidentally sends her new (and super-dreamy) editor the wrong manuscript. Instead of the full-length paranormal novel she promised Longstrand Publishing, she sends the fan fiction she’s written about her crush…on him—including every detail of the hot, steamy “physical activity” she’s fantasized about happening between them.

I'm in the midst of scrawling "I quit!" onto his fancy cardstock letterhead when my boss corners me. He needs a favor, he says. And then he asks how well I can act. Hudson Rutherford needs a fiancée. With his old-moneyed parents forcing him to marry some bratty hotel heiress and his hedonistic, playboy lifestyle at stake, the only way to get them to back off is to make them think he's truly, madly, deeply in love...with me - his third personal assistant this year. But I can hardly stand working for him as it is.

The name on the screen was "Absinthe". But I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late-night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the filthiest little...mutually satisfying exchanges...I'd ever experienced in my life. We'd never met. Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, "You wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?"

The most beautiful man I've ever seen is the same one who can ruin everything. The first time I lay eyes on Callan Walker, I know he'll be trouble. With his smug grin, hot Aussie accent, and thousand-dollar shoes, he's just the kind of rich guy who always gets what he wants. And he wants two things: a night of sin, and my cooperation as he outmaneuvers his powerful mother to take control of his uncle's estate. I can't afford either one. I'm the only thing standing between my little sister and the foster care system.

Corbin: I loved my grandma, but I don't need her money. All I care about is keeping the house - the only place that's ever felt like home. That, and screwing over my dad, who wants to turn the property into a mall. There's only one catch: to receive my inheritance, I have to get married within six months. Me, the guy who's never dated a girl for more than six minutes. Now I need to find a woman I can trust. So when I'm rear-ended by a Prius, I figure it's a sign that I'm supposed to meet gorgeous, down-to-earth Teagan Monroe.

Enemies turn to lovers in this bad boy billionaire romance with a twist. I had a plan. Finish law school. Start a job. Stay away from men like Brandon Sterling. Cocky, overbearing, and richer than the Earth, he thinks the world belongs to him, and that includes me. Yeah, no. Think again. It doesn't matter that his blue eyes look straight into my soul, or that his touch melts my icy reserve. It doesn't even matter that past all that swagger, there's a beautiful, damaged man who has so much to offer beyond private planes and jewelry boxes. But I had a plan: no falling in love.

When 27-year-old pop sensation Brooklyn Heart steps in front of a microphone, her love songs enchant audiences worldwide. But when it comes to her own love life, the only spell she's under is a dry one. So when her label slots her for a Grammy performance with the sexy and soulful Jason Monroe, she can't help but entertain certain fantasies...those in which her G-string gets more play than her guitars'.

Stella Lane thinks math is the only thing that unites the universe. She comes up with algorithms to predict customer purchases - a job that has given her more money than she knows what to do with as well as way less experience in the dating department than the average 30-year-old. It doesn't help that she has Asperger's and that French kissing reminds her of a shark getting its teeth cleaned by pilot fish. She decides that she needs lots of practice - with a professional - which is why she hires escort Michael Phan.

So there I was, on a stage with two other men, being asked ridiculous questions by a woman I couldn't see, but whose voice made my pants tighten - and not around my ankles. Before I knew what was happening, I'd signed up for six weeks in paradise, isolated on an island for 42 days with a complete stranger. And when I finally laid eyes on the sexy brunette who belonged to that voice, a part of me thought this wouldn't be so bad.

Haunted by the responsibility of caring for her troubled family, Maya Jacobs gave the only answer she could when Cameron asked her to marry him. Years later, entrenched in a soulless professional routine, she distracts herself from the lingering regret of her decision with a "work hard, play hard" lifestyle that guarantees no man will ever find his way into her heart again.

Phoebe St. Claire has devoted herself to saving her family's hotel empire, but her best efforts have not been good enough. With her whole world in turmoil, the tenacious go-getter turns to the once love of her life. Far from innocent, Jeremy McQueen was the guy from the wrong side of the tracks who her parents would never have approved of. Their years apart have only made the sexy bad boy more irresistible than ever-and their reunion is explosive.

Mia Saunders needs money. A lot of money. She has one year to pay off the loan shark who has threatened her father's life and is coming after his unpaid gambling debts. One million dollars to be exact. Her mission is simple - serve as a high-priced escort for her aunt's Los Angeles-based company and pay monthly against the debt. Spend a month with a rich man whom she doesn't have to sleep with if she doesn't want to? Easy money. Unlucky in love with a spirit that never gives up, this curvy motorcycle-riding vixen plans to get in, make her money, and get out.

For the first time in my life, I'm living for myself - not for my parents and their ridiculous expectations. I gave up on my MBA, dropped out of the Ivy League, and moved to Portland to pursue my dream of becoming an artist. And what's the first thing I do? Get knocked up. For a tatted-up sex god, Braxton Henley seems way too eager to "be there for me". Is this guy serious? Maybe. He sure is patient. Because he won't back down until I admit what I know in my heart: that our one-night stand might've led me to the one.

Dean Barclay had nothing to do with my decision to flee my old life, but he is 100 percent of the reason I vowed to never look back. I've never forgotten how it felt to follow Dean - dangerous, daring, determined - away from the crowd and climb into his beat-up old Trans Am. I was 16 and gloriously alive for the first time. When I felt his hand cover my leg and move upward, it was over. I was his. Forever.

I'd say I'm down on my luck, but that's an understatement. I'm flat on my ass. Homeless, hungry, and in hiding with my little sister at the age of 21, I've never been so desperate. I've hit rock bottom when I get an offer I can't refuse. Sell my body to save my sister? There's nothing I won't do to keep her safe. I make the rules, and I'm not afraid to defend myself if this rich guy crosses the line. But once I see beneath his cold, calculating façade, the lines aren't so clear anymore.

Lily, you predictable perv. I knew you'd open this email faster if I tempted you with a glimpse of JT's "PP". Well, put your pants back on and grab some bubbly because I have much better news to share. I got a job! As of tomorrow, I'll be the new executive assistant at Lorena Lefray Designs. I am so excited, but there's one itty bitty problem: I won't be Lorena's assistant. I'll be working for her older brother, Julian.