Mr. Santillian, Despite the fact I'm currently living out of your guest room and sleeping with you most nights, I am writing to announce my resignation, effective two weeks from today. In other words, I'll locate someone who is both obscenely overqualified and willing to devote their days to the handful of tasks you are able to wrench from your perfectionist, micromanaging grip.

Blind dates? Online dating profiles? Been there, done that. Georgia Cummings has zero luck with dating, and the era of the Internet is not her friend. No matter how fast she runs, how many corners she turns, she can't find her way out of this weird, alternate universe where men think dick pics are a replacement for small talk and getting to know a girl. One more crotch selfie and she might write men off for good. But why can't she stop fantasizing about him?

Beckham King. Noun. Synonyms: None. Vanity wrapped in arrogance and tied with a wicked-intentioned bow. Obnoxiously attractive. Wildly talented in the sack. Everything a girl could want in a one-night stand. Don't ask him to commit. Don't expect a phone call. You only get one night. And God forbid you're the one girl deemed worthy of a reprise...Because you won't stand a chance. When an arrogant playboy's mind is set, there's abso-f--cking-lutely no changing it.

One night only - that was the deal we made. But one fantastic night had us both changing our minds in the morning. And making plans for another. Until I walked into the office to learn he just bought my company. 

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.

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.

It started out like any other morning on the train - until I became mesmerized by the guy sitting across the aisle. He was barking at someone on his phone like he ruled the world. Who did the stuck-up suit think he was...God? Actually, he looked like a god. That was about it.

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.

Thomas Goldstone. A man of a billion-dollar deals in custom-tailored suits, he demands more than your best. He’s scary. Driven. Haunted by inner demons that have taken him to the brink. But beneath the arrogant, controlling facade lies a heart of gold. It makes me want to solve him one growly, messy piece at a time. To be the only one who sees the truth of the man. 

They call me Ghost for a reason. Silent and in the shadows, I don't make my move until I am absolutely sure of everything. Four years ago I was sure about Jenna. My best friend's kid sister had grown up into a spitfire I couldn't resist. One night we stopped resisting. We promised we'd keep it a secret. It was a one-time mistake, but we'd put it behind us. Jenna tried to get out of our corrupt town, but it pulled her back in again. Now she needs help. I'll do all of that for her, if she'll just shut the hell up and let me. She can even keep all of her secrets, except for one.

I left the Navy, scored a billion in tech, got married, and had a baby. I did everything by the book. Happily ever after, right? Fast-forward four years, and I’m alone, raising my daughter, caring for my mother-in-law, and trying to keep my stuff together. How did this happen? I was clearly drunk the night I offered a gorgeous girl in a bar $500 a day to be my live-in nanny. Or maybe it was my dick talking. So what if I’ve been alone since forever? I’m focused on launching my new business, not bedding the sexy siren who sleeps down the hall.

It's just a docuseries about your career as an OB/GYN, they said. It won't interrupt your life during or after filming, they said. It's a great opportunity for the hospital and your practice, they said. Well, they - the television executives who seem intent on ruining my career and personal life with a fair number of creative liberties - lied. Now I'm stuck dealing with the consequences of believing them. Instead of being known as Dr. Will Cummings, head of obstetrics and gynecology at St. Luke's Hospital, I'm now being called Dr. Obscene.

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. 

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.

It was an innocent mistake...All workaholic real estate broker Addison Andrews wanted was one night of pleasure, and picking the right guy was no different than shopping from a catalog, thanks to the dating app on her phone. His name was Wilder, and his profile was blank - just a sexy picture of a man who promised every wicked intention of a one-night stand. The agreement was simple. One night. No last names.