Faking It

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.

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.

My life was perfect - until a shocking tragedy pulled the rug out from underneath me. My children were left without a father. I was without a husband and a provider. Instead of wallowing in my grief, I buried myself in my work at Dovetail Enterprises. Landing the promotion as the CEO’s right hand was exactly what I needed. Getting saddled with Milo Huxley as an assistant is exactly the opposite. I can’t stand him. He’s arrogant, irresponsible, and out for my job. As if that’s not bad enough, he has to be devastatingly sexy, and have a posh English accent that makes me squirm on top of it all.

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.

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.

Ten years ago, Whitney Gable caught me off guard with her long legs and grab-you-by-the-balls blue eyes. I didn't know or care what her name was. Like any Riscoff worth the family name, I went after what I wanted. We burned like a flash fire until she married another man. She hates me, and she should. I objected on her wedding day. Now she's home, with those same long legs and man-eater stare, but there's no ring on her finger. They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after, but I'm not done with Whitney Gable.

Nicholas Arthur Frederick Edward Pembrook, Crowned Prince of Wessco, aka His Royal Hotness, is wickedly charming, devastatingly handsome, and unabashedly arrogant - hard not to be when people are constantly bowing down to you. Then, one snowy night in Manhattan, the prince meets a dark-haired beauty who doesn't bow down. Instead she throws a pie in his face.

Evangeline's life is dark and lonely. She'll do anything to change that. Anything. Even play a game with a stranger she's never met. What starts out as "therapy" soon turns into a passionate anonymous love affair. Her blindfold is like a security blanket and his touch is what lights a fire inside her. 

I am the world's biggest dating failure. We're talking my last date went home with our waitress kind of failure. But I have an ace in the back pocket of my mom jeans - my sexy-as-sin best friend, NHL superstar forward, Justin Cruise. Justin owes me favors dating back to seventh grade, long before he became a hotshot with a world famous...stick. So in return for my undying platonic loyalty, all I want is an easy-peasy crash course on how to be a sex goddess.

When Zach Hastings and I get into a wrong-number mix-up, we don't follow the rules. We keep texting and flirting because he's wicked funny and perfectly nerdy and a wonderful distraction. I'm not looking for love, and Zach definitely had the wrong number. But maybe...maybe he's the right guy. 

I believe in love. It just doesn’t believe in me. I date. I’m all for giving guys a chance. I’ve just never met the one. Until on a spring morning in the English countryside, a tall, dark stranger emerges from the mist. Logan Steele is all tousled hair, hard chest, and lips so perfect I want to reach out and touch them, just to check they’re real. Did I mention he’s an Earl with a self-made fortune? But when I find out Logan Steele is out to destroy everything I’ve dedicated my life to protect, the chemistry disappears and the hope that had blossomed my chest turns to rage.

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.

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 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.

It's a long story, but I messed up at work. Big time. To earn back the trust of my boss, I promised to save one of our magazines. Yep. That Hot Dad contest you've seen advertised all over the place was my idea. And if I'm successful, if I'm able to increase our online readership, then I get a shot at my dream job. But the one thing I never expected to happen, happened: Contestant number 10, Grayson Malone. Hello, Mr. Difficult. And did I mention sexy as hell? Unfortunately he knows me. The old me, anyway. I remind him of before. Of the woman who broke his heart....