The most important thing I’d ever read was scribbled on the door of a portable restroom, engraved into plastic at a carnival on the outskirts of Boston. Lust lingers, love stays. Lust is impatient, love waits. Lust burns, love warms. Lust destroys, but love? Love kills. Maybe it was always my destiny to fall in love with a monster. When other kids stayed awake at night fearing the pointy-toothed beast hiding in their closet, I longed to see mine.

I was not looking for a date. Another questionable relationship was the last thing I needed. Because trust me, they were all questionable. But through a series of unfortunate events involving my cat and his poor decision-making skills, I agreed to a set-up. Except...the set-up is with the governor. I am not political girlfriend material. For one, I’m a little bit crazy. For two, I have secrets. But I also have a big crush on the governor. One little date can’t hurt, right? Spoiler: It can. My big crush is going to end in big trouble.

I never should have gone commando in that dress. I'm almost positive the rest of it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been dangling off a hotel balcony. And of course the one person to witness my mortification had to be him. Camden Cox. Sure, today he's gorgeous and wealthy, and fine, I can admit he has a great sense of humor. But once upon a time, he was the boy who loved to make my life miserable. But I'm Sophie Abbott, and if there's one thing I'm good at, it's making a mess. Only this is a disaster. Because after a wild night in Vegas, I'm pretty sure we got married.

I have a history of picking the wrong guy. Gay? Player? Momma's boy? Check, check and check. Now I can't stop fantasizing about one of the customers at the coffee shop I work at between classes. It's just a harmless crush, right? It's not like I ever see this guy outside of the coffee shop. It's not like I'm going to see him while attempting to get birth control at the student clinic. While wearing a paper gown. While sitting on an exam table. Because he's the doctor. Shoot. Me.

River Tate is a god on campus. The king of football. A tattooed bad boy with gunmetal eyes that see right through you. The only chink in his armor is HER, the girl he pretends doesn't exist, the forbidden one with the shy smile and lavender hair. Anastasia Bailey is a nobody.

Sinclair Amadeus Sterling, a.k.a. Mr. Superior Jackass with a God complex. Who also happens to be my blackmailer...gulp. Tall, dark, gazillionaire growly pants. The first time I met him, I kneed him in his very well endowed balls - don't ask! He had that tightly leashed, controlling air and a smoldering glare that made me damp in seconds. The only thing that sucks worse than his attitude is his (lack of) sense of humor! Honest. Sadly, he's also the one who could save my business from going bust. Hell! 

Finding a good roommate through a classified ad isn’t as easy as it sounds. I was starting to lose hope. Until a knock at my door came, and God answered my prayers. Except...uh...wrong prayer, God. I’d definitely requested the big guy find me a drop-dead gorgeous man on more than one occasion...just not as my roommate. Declan Tate talked me into interviewing him anyway. While he was amusing and charismatic, I wouldn’t have been comfortable living with a man, so I regretfully declined. Then, cupcakes showed up at my door.

Mistakes were made, okay? The moment I laid eyes on Kyle Kingston I knew he was a mistake. A satisfying, toe-curling, hair-pulling, best-night-of-my-life mistake, but a mistake all the same. I didn’t yet know his name, or who he was, but I knew he was a bad idea. I’m pregnant...and did I mention my baby daddy is both heir to a retail empire and impossible to get ahold of? I do what any girl would. I break into his grandfather’s retirement gala by telling the prissy gatekeeper Kyle’s my fiancé.

They call him The Mute for a reason. Hard, cold, and calculated, he rarely speaks. When he does, it's with disdain. When he does, his words aren't meant for me. When he does, my stomach flips and my world tilts on its axis. He is 33. I am 18. He's a single dad and my father's business partner. I'm just a kid to him and his enemy's daughter. He's emotionally unavailable. And I am...feeling. Feeling things I shouldn't feel for him. Trent Rexroth is going to break my heart. The writing isn't just on the wall, it's inked on my soul.

Cruel. Coldblooded. Hades in a Brioni suit. Cillian Fitzpatrick has been dubbed every wicked thing on planet earth. To the media, he is The Villain. To me, he is the man who (reluctantly) saved my life. Now I need him to do me another small solid. Bail me out of the mess my husband got me into. What’s a hundred grand to one of the wealthiest men in America, anyway? Only Cillian doesn’t hand out free favors. The price for the money, it turns out, is my freedom.