Come as You Are

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.

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. 

That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star? Turns out, he's my son's new teacher. Oops. But I didn't know that the night I met Campbell. All I knew was he played my body the same way he played a guitar - like he owned it. My libido is still high-fiving me after being self-served for too many years, and we're both ready for another night or two of fun, especially since we don't just have chemistry in bed - we connect over everything. That is, until I learn he's the man who'll be coming to my house twice a week to teach my son the best music lessons money can buy.

We met in the least likely of places. It started out innocently enough. I was “ScreenGod”, and she was “Montana”, but of course those weren’t our actual names, just the virtual cloaks we hid behind. Logging in at night and talking to her was my escape - my sanctuary. Her real name was Eden, I’d soon come to find out. From the first time we connected online, I found myself transfixed. She was an addiction. At first, we knew nothing about each other’s real identities...and she was adamant that we keep things that way.

I'll say this about Christian - he made one hell of a first impression. When I first saw the strapping man, he was doing handstands naked on a dock along the canal. His crown jewels were far more entertaining than anything else I'd seen on the boat tour, so I did what any curious woman would do - I took his photo.  

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.

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....

The first time we met was at a party. Your ex arrived to show off the person he'd left you for last month, and you asked me to pretend to be your date. I was more than happy to help. You were attractive, smart and witty--and that kiss we shared? It left me wanting you for days. The second time we met was in my office on campus where we were both surprised to discover you were the new master’s degree student in poetry that I would be working with. You promised to be professional. I did no such thing. The late nights and intense study sessions spent alongside you majorly throw me off my game. I want you, and I fight with myself daily over this fact. I know I'm crass, that my sexual innuendos and dirty mouth annoy you, but I live for those two bright spots of color in your cheeks. If that's the only reaction I can get out of you, I'll gladly take it. You hate Mondays so every Monday I slip an anonymous poem into your bag and your smile gets me through the week. I think I'm falling for you, and I know it's wrong. I know that I'm only supposed to be the adviser to your program and nothing more, but here's the thing. I think you're falling for me too.

I'm getting really good at cutting my losses. First, the husband. Divorcing him was the best decision I ever made. But between single-parenting and job-hunting, I can't catch my breath. When a celebrity blogging position falls into my lap, I'm determined to succeed. That is, until I get my first assignment and actually see Noah Frazier for the first time...practically naked and dripping wet. My heart races and I forget how to form complete sentences. His chiseled abs, irresistible smirk, and crystal blue eyes are too perfect to be real. So, what do I do? Get drunk and humiliate myself, of course.

My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards. We met at a wedding. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction. I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me. We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.

Growing up, the three of us were friends. He was the nerd. I was the playboy. She was the beauty. Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits. He lied. I went off to college, and he got the girl. Amber never knew how I felt. They were together for years - before he broke her heart. Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch. When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

It was my home run ball that shattered her face. Right along with her modeling career. Now it's my mission to help her rebuild her life. And get her to love the game that she hates. The game that dictates my life both on and off the field. But when the lines of our friendship become blurred, I worry she'll just be another casualty of my three-strikes rule. The rule I have to protect my money, my future, my heart. No girl has ever broken it. I've never wanted one to. Until now.

April Hamilton wants you to know she hasn’t been on Craigslist since that time she sold her futon after college. She doesn’t even spend that much time online. And even if she did, she would not be looking up personal ads. But going home alone for her family's summer reunion is an invitation for every single relative to butt into her personal life. She simply can’t handle another blind date with the butcher, the baker, or the candlestick maker from her hometown. So when she finds the Craigslist ad for a boyfriend-for-hire, she’s ready to pay to play.  

I didn't mean to sneak a peek at my older brother's best friend. But when I catch him showering by mistake, I can't help but look. The guy is massive - and I do mean everywhere. We're all home to celebrate Dad's retirement as one big happy family, except my newlywed brother's already getting divorced, my mom keeps asking why I'm still single, and most frustrating of all, Barrett Wilson is staying with us at my parents' home for the weekend. I've known Barrett for years, so why am I suddenly noticing so many new things about him - like how big he is? It's maddening.