I didn’t know bridesmaid was code for babysitter for the bride’s brother, but if that’s what my best friend needs of me for her dream wedding to go off without a hitch, that’s what I’ll do. Even if Theo Monroe has been a pain in my rear since third grade. Even if he should be responsible enough to not wreak havoc at his sister’s destination wedding.

Max Burrows comes from one of the wealthiest families in San Francisco—and I come from one of the poorest. We have nothing in common. Max is tall, built, with chiseled good looks, while I struggle to keep stains off my blouse.

His name is Pestilence. At least, that’s what they called him in college after an outbreak of a certain, ahem, intimately transmitted infection on campus. Now in his thirties, Leo St. James is fully reformed from his playboy past. He has a fiancée and everything. Oh, no, wait. He lied about that. His fiancée doesn’t exist. But when Leo’s boss sees him with his hand cupped around Amelia Darcy’s face, Leo has no choice but to call her his bride-to-be and promise to bring her to his company retreat.

It was a heat-of-the-moment agreement scribbled onto the back of a crinkled gas station receipt nine years ago. "If neither of us is married by age 30, we'll marry each other." Haha! So funny! Cash moved to a city 500 miles away, built his billion-dollar empire, and made a name for himself. Me? I stayed in our gossipy hometown, working a simple job and living a simple life. And we never discussed the marriage pact again. But I just turned the big three-oh, and Cash showed up at my door in the middle of a freaking rainstorm. 

The first time I met the grumpy lumberjack next door, I almost burnt down his cabin. The second time, I was throwing tampons at a moose (don't ask). The third time, I was naked. Henri Gagnon is not just my neighbor and landlord but a pain in my optimistic, plus-sized ass. He's got a protective streak under his grumpy exterior, and he's convinced I won't make it through the Maine winter.

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.

He called me “Goody-Goody.” He called me “Nosy-Josie.” He called me other things while he pulled my pigtails. Now, his grandmother left us a surprise inheritance. The catch? We have to get married and live in her small NYC apartment. For a month. With just one bed. When I arrive, he’s not the cheeky jerk I hated. He’s piping hot. Tall. Sinfully tattooed. A stunning villain. And that damn smirk on his face?

Moxie Stone had a plan when she came to New Orleans. She was going to launch the most successful bar on Bourbon Street, collect her accolades, and then move to a bigger market. She had her eye on the prize...and then he hijacked her launch. Augustus “Gus” Kingman is one of those Kingmans. He has more money than Moxie. He has pedigree. He has parents who are willing to throw money at a problem. What he doesn’t have is Moxie’s drive. They’re supposed to hate each other, and they’re convinced they do. They’re also drawn to one another with alarming regularity.

My hot, fiercely protective best friend Landon just dropped to one knee in the middle of the Bellagio with the perfect solution to all my problems. After an unexpected diagnosis and a run of bad luck, I'm officially down and out. That is until my best friend of two decades offers me his name… and his health insurance. We're in Vegas for someone else's wedding. The last thing I ever expected was a proposal of my own—especially from Landon, my rock, my closest friend, even when we're miles apart.

After complaining that I work too much, my mom and sister have stolen my phone and tricked me into a vacation. They insist I'm going to enjoy this charming small town. My cousin Doug lives here. We grew up together, and he's basically like a brother. He's finally asked Claire, the woman he's infatuated with, to go on a date with him. He tells me he's in love with her and even sees wedding bells in their future. But then Doug gets called away on an emergency and comes up with a crazy plan. He thinks I should take Claire out instead... I never should have agreed to it.

My brother's best friend owned my heart until the day he drenched it in kerosene and burned it down. Grant flipping Faircross is so not the reason I'm coming home. I don't care if he's gotten bigger, meaner, and grumpy enough to flash freeze the sun. So what if he's up in my business the second I arrive? I'm smarter now. I'm only back in Redhaven for my sick mother and to talk some sense into my sister before she marries a toad.

Lydia Ryder is trouble. It’s what I told myself when I first saw her arrive in our small, rural town wearing stilettos. When she spilled an entire cup of coffee all over herself. And when I saved her from tripping off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic. I lead a simple life as a single dad. I don’t have time for trouble. I’m too busy packing lunches, driving to soccer practices, and trying to fold a damn fitted sheet. But she sees beyond the overworked, exhausted parent I am. She sees the real me. The me that I haven’t allowed myself to be since my wife died two years ago.

He’s the last person I want to get stuck anywhere with—it’s bad enough that I have to see him every day at work—and yet, because of a booking error (or curse of the universe, as I like to call it), I’m stuck in the same vacation rental with him for an entire week.

I touched her confectionary creation, and she told me off. Slapping my hands and cursing in her own unique fashion. No one talked to me that way. I liked it. I liked her cake even more. So, I took her to Italy to bake for me. I should have asked her first, but I had a feeling she'd say no. But I brought her cat, so that should count for something.

Four stories of men who will do whatever it takes - endless chocolate, a closet full of shoes, unfortunate tattoos - to make it anything but temporary.