Bro Code

I broke her heart 10 years ago and left town. She hates me, and rightly so. It doesn’t matter that the rest of the country loves me, that I’m a starting quarterback with a multimillion-dollar contract. Because when I look in the mirror, all I see is a failure who was too young - and too afraid - to fight for what I wanted. But I’m not that guy anymore, and all I need is one shot to convince her.

Sweet, nerdy, lovable Keaton. She's my best friend and has been for years. Sure she likes numbers and math, and thinks doing other people's taxes is fun. And I like...none of that stuff. She reads novels I'll never understand, and yet we just click. There's no one I'd rather share breakfast burritos with or binge watch hours of Netflix with. She's my person. And so when she takes off her glasses and asks me to help her improve her skills in the bedroom, I barely have to think about it. Of course I'll help her. There's no one better for the job. But what happens when she's ready to take her new-found confidence and move on?

Last night was the most embarrassing night of my life. I was that girl. You know, the highly intoxicated chick celebrating her 30th with her two best friends - the ones who are happily married. And the more I drank, the more I wanted to do something reckless to celebrate. By reckless, I meant the sexy and alluring man dressed in a business suit standing near the bar. 

My best friend, Natalie, has been by my side through everything. Leaning on my shoulder, borrowing my sweatshirts…and making my pants too tight when she flashes me that sassy smile that drives me crazy. But she has no idea about that last part. She doesn't have a clue I've felt this way about her for years. Until one night after too many cocktails, we fall into bed together. I'm flirting with my forever…she just doesn't know it yet. 

Full disclosure: Before we move forward with this email, I would like it to be known that I have consumed an adequate amount of alcoholic beverages to intoxicate myself tonight. Three margaritas, two shots, and one beer - because it was free. I think it's important to be open and honest with your coworkers, don't you? So here I am, being open and honest. Drunk but honest. Or just drunk with lust? You decide. I have a hopeless, foolish, schoolgirl crush on you when you are the last person on earth I should be falling for. Did you know people around the office call you a sadist?

It was just a typical Monday. Until the big boss asked me to make the pitch for a prospective new client. After two years on shaky ground at work because of my screw up, an opportunity to impress the senior partners was just what I needed. Or so I thought, until I walked into the conference room and collided with the man I was supposed to pitch to. My coffee spilled, my files tumbled to the ground, and I almost lost my balance. And that was the good part of my day. Because the gorgeous man who crouched down and looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive was none other than my ex.

Célian Laurent. Manhattan royalty. Notorious playboy. Heir to a media empire...and my new boss. I could have impressed him, if not for last month's unforgettable one-night stand. I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory - namely, his wallet. Now he's staring me down like I'm the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I'm supposed to take it. But the thing about being Judith "Jude" Humphry is I have nothing to lose. Brooklyn girl. Infamously quirky. Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch. 

I've always been a good girl. I work hard, I follow the rules, I always achieve my goals. But sometimes good girls want things that aren't good for them. Or someone who isn't good for them. Like their new boss. And sometimes they do very bad things to get his attention. Like sell their virginity in an auction. Who knew he'd be so very, very mad? Maybe this was not my best laid plan....

We met in a trapped elevator. Emmett was on his way to work, sophisticated and handsome in his tailored suit and tie. I was on my way to the sperm bank. Awkward, right? At 35, my life hadn't taken the path I thought it would and I was tired of waiting - I wanted a baby. And I was ready to take matters into my own hands to make it happen. After our ill-fated elevator encounter, Emmett insisted on taking me to dinner - he also insisted on something else - that I ditch my plan involving a turkey baster and let him do the job. He would be my baby daddy.

I have two rules in life: first, no relationships, falling in love, or attachments; and second, no sleeping with clients of my interior design firm. Since the last guy turned out to be married, they’ve been easy to follow, until Callum Huxley, a ridiculously sexy Brit. The connection we have the moment our eyes lock scares the ever-loving hell out of me. Thank God, I came to my senses before going back to his hotel where I would’ve ended up naked, panting, and unable to forget him.

Picture this - I’m ready to win back the love of my life, and I’m going big this time. We’re talking boom box, sing her name in the rain, let the whole damn neighborhood know I'm good and ready this time around. After all, if you're going to grand gesture the ever-loving hell out of a second chance, you need to pull out all the stops. There’s only one little problem. My college girlfriend isn't the one who shows up when I play my "I'll do anything to win you back" tune. The woman who flings open the second-floor window tells me my ex doesn’t live here anymore.

I’m just a simple girl who likes dessert. And sexy men. And social media. So starting an anonymous video channel called The Sexpert as a side hustle to make up for my low-paying marketing job at Le Man Magazine seemed like a perfectly sensible career decision. Until we went viral, my boss accused my anonymous personality of stealing his idea, and now my super sexy new boyfriend, Andrew, is out to get me. Her. Me. Whatever.

It all started with a mysterious blue note sewn into a wedding dress. Something blue. I’d gone to sell my own unworn bridal gown at a vintage clothing store. That’s when I found another bride’s “something old.” Stitched into the lining of a fabulously feathered design was the loveliest message I’d ever read: Thank you for making all of my dreams come true. The name embossed on the blue stationery: Reed Eastwood, obviously the most romantic man who ever lived. I also discovered he’s the most gorgeous. If only my true-love fantasies had stopped there.

For six generations, the women of wine country have had a saying: don’t bang a Hunter man unless you want a bun in your oven. Yeah, well. I’ve got a saying too: no thanks. The last thing I need is baby makes three. My business is expanding, and the only thing I’m interested in getting knocked up is my bottom line. But then one night, Emma Haverford makes me an offer I can’t refuse - she backs away from the land I have my eye on in exchange for a favor...a big, fat, baby-making favor....

Dirty rich one night stand. That's all it was supposed to be. He's the powerful attorney, now world-renowned after coming off the trial of a century which was publicized across the country. And I'm one of the reporters that sat in his courtroom. I watched him, studied him, got to know him from afar which isn't hard since I know his exact brand of confidence, arrogance, and wealth. I know his type. I've dated his type. Which is why when I happen to come face to face with him, when sparks fly and heat simmers between us, I know what happens if I say yes to Reese Summer.