Sammy Baker is a divorced, single mom trying to find her way again. With two boys and an absent ex-husband, she’s got the world on her shoulders and Legos under her feet. Amid the chaos lives the dream of, one day, finding love again. Though, she didn’t think that would land her smack-dab in the middle of two men. Will Sammy choose the successful businessman who doesn’t hesitate to tell her he’s interested? Or will she go for the eligible bachelor doctor with a constant influx of women vying for his attention?

Tristan Stiles is the bane of my existence. He never wears a shirt. We can’t seem to stop fighting. He’s an arrogant playboy with a filthy reputation. Sure, I had a crush on him when I was fourteen but that was a long time ago. I know better than to trust him. I just need to survive long enough to find a new job and get a new place. And not accidentally let Tristan show me exactly how well-deserved his reputation is.

A successful writer accidentally sends her new (and super-dreamy) editor the wrong manuscript. Instead of the full-length paranormal novel she promised Longstrand Publishing, she sends the fan fiction she’s written about her crush…on him—including every detail of the hot, steamy “physical activity” she’s fantasized about happening between them.

Beckett Langfield is grumpy, rich and hates kids. I’m an overworked, overstressed, and overweight single mom. The only reason we’re getting married is because he needs to fix a PR disaster and I am available. As in sitting next to him, in a bar, when he has this brilliant idea. Considering I just got divorced, I’m not looking to do that again. But Beckett makes me an offer that I literally can’t refuse, so I don’t.

When it comes to life's fun and games, always know: The rules. What's at stake. When to quit. Wise words from...well...my fortune cookie. But wise words, nonetheless.

It was supposed to be simple favor for my very important boss - go to his good friend Tex Jameson's luxury ranch and provide personal medical care for his recently injured teenage son. I thought it'd be a working vacation of sorts, but everything is upside down, and absolutely nothing is as I thought it would be. For one, this patient is not a teenage boy. He's a real-life, blue-eyed, tough-as-nails, 30-something cowboy who is so darn strong he looks like he could lift a car just for the heck of it. 

He’s the last person I want to get stuck anywhere with—it’s bad enough that I have to see him every day at work—and yet, because of a booking error (or curse of the universe, as I like to call it), I’m stuck in the same vacation rental with him for an entire week.

Mabel "Maybe" Willis died a virgin at the very young age of 24. She leaves behind her parents, Betty and Bruce, her brother, Evan, a laptop filled with one too many Jason Momoa memes, and a Kindle library with more books than one human being could ever finish in a lifetime. Cause of death: a text message. Okay. So, I didn't die. But I may as well have. One minute, I'm a woman trying to find her way in the world, and the next, I'm the sender of six of the most embarrassing text messages that have ever been sent in the history of time - or the cell phone. Whatever.   

For the entirety of my adult life, I've been content. Content in my single lifestyle, content in my stressful-but-extremely-successful job as the main corporate counsel for almost every Fortune 500 company in North America, and content in my playful, spontaneous ways. I had no idea it was possible for someone to change my mind. The endless women and work are no longer enough, and just as Ruby Rockford told me - it's about time I grow up.

Demi Crawford was Magnolia Falls royalty. I was the boxer from the wrong side of the tracks. She was the epitome of everything good, while I was broody and rebellious. We couldn’t be more different. Her family was enemy number one which made her guilty by association. I despised her before I even knew her. It was easier that way. But now she’d moved in next door to me, and she was everywhere I turned. I couldn’t avoid her no matter how hard I tried. She was beautiful and honest and sweet. Everything I knew I shouldn’t want. Shouldn’t need.

I'm Luciana Wright. Everyone calls me Lucky, but when it comes to love, I'm anything but. I have a long history of dating the wrong men. After going through the most ridiculous breakup in the history of breakups, I thought I'd learned my lesson. I officially put myself into jerk rehab and committed to changing my ways. But, let's be real here, love is never that easy. Especially when an arrogant, charming, he-devil of a sexy alpha man gets involved.

Have you ever seen a fireman who's so insanely sexy you'd actually consider DIY-ing a little at-home arson just so he'd show up at your front door? Dramatic, I know, but hear me out. Chiseled hot body, bright blue eyes, and the sexiest smile I've ever seen - the first time I saw Garrett Alexander in my exam room, it took everything inside me not to do something crazy like mount him during his yearly physical. Not only is he a total babe, but he's charming, hilarious, and the kind of single dad that would make your ovaries explode.

I didn’t know bridesmaid was code for babysitter for the bride’s brother, but if that’s what my best friend needs of me for her dream wedding to go off without a hitch, that’s what I’ll do. Even if Theo Monroe has been a pain in my rear since third grade. Even if he should be responsible enough to not wreak havoc at his sister’s destination wedding.

Dear Internet: I (33F) work at a local paper, and two months ago, my editor assigned me a huge project - run the upcoming, highly anticipated Bachelor Anonymous contest. Men from all over Southern California, vying for the coveted bachelor role, submitted their personal ads to my paper. The readers voted, and Single Dad Seeks Juliet won by a landslide. Enter Mr. Bachelor Anonymous (40M), the single-dad Romeo seeking his Juliet. Blah, blah, blah, right? Wrong. This guy is the ultimate man in a six-foot-three, chiseled-muscle, freaking Adonis package with aquamarine eyes.

Goal: Find a boyfriend, get married, buy a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and pop out 2.5 kids. Deadline: Sixty days. That's possible, right? There is no doubt that, this year, home for the holidays takes on a whole new, terrifying meaning. I have to travel from New York City - my home and safe haven for the last 15 years - to my tiny hometown in Vermont for Christmas, my baby sister's wedding, and my high school reunion.