Yes, I’m a single dad who needs a nanny for the summer. But hiring the stranded runaway bride who shows up on my doorstep in a wedding gown with no references, no skills, and no experience? No one is that desperate.

Help Wanted: Grumpy Mountain Man seeks baby momma. Job is an incubator position only. Surrogate must be impervious to grunting in the form of communication and nosey brotherly neighbors. Rustic mountain range housing available upon request. I wanted to pummel my irritating brothers when they posted their own version of a wanted ad to help me with my life. But I can’t fault the results once the right woman lands on my lap. Becoming a single father is not a decision I made lightly. In fact, it’s the biggest decision of my entire life.

I’ve been raised to be the perfect mafia wife, but when my marriage turns into a horrific nightmare, I have no choice but to leave everything behind and start a new life. I find myself alone in Ibiza—a place that swallows innocent girls like me alive. I’m robbed the day I arrive, left with nothing but a few euros and the clothes on my back.

Declan Hardy, All-American heartthrob and retired NFL billionaire, is my complete opposite. He's commanding where I'm cooperative. Spontaneous while I am deliberate. Loud when I stay quiet. The only thing we have in common is that both our names are on my father's will.

Bianca Chopra. Gorgeous. Forbidden. My past obsession. When she propositions me for a sham marriage, I say no with a warning to stay away. Like a dirty vixen, she raises the stake, reawakening the forbidden feelings, and I find myself throwing caution to the wind. She thinks she'll walk away unscathed but doesn't realize she made a deal with a monster with a secret that will wreck her entire world.

I lie to one of the city's most ruthless men—and it feels so good. Deception is a drug, and I'm quickly becoming an addict. Each time we speak, Zuko has no idea it's me. The lie tastes sweet leaving my mouth. I couldn't stop now, even if I wanted to—which I don't. He thinks our conversations are more than just sex. He's wrong. The intimacy he feels is all a facade. Until the day an embodiment of my darkest fantasies walks into my bar, and his unmistakable voice sends a shiver down my spine. It turns out I'm not the one in control.

Desperate and out of options, Elena Rousseau walks into a gentlemen’s club, ready to sell her body in a last attempt to save her mother’s life. She didn’t expect Alexander Kennedy to be there, and she certainly didn’t expect him to propose a marriage of convenience instead.

From a poor underground street fighter, I rose to fame as the world heavyweight boxing champion. No one knew I was also a monster who hunted in the shadows. Trapped in the mafia until my debts were paid. A simple deal held my freedom—unify my belts. It seemed simple until an enchanting British firecracker landed on my lap, knocking me sideways. Wanting her was dangerous for us both, but I took her anyway. Leaving me with the choice, fight for my freedom or hers. When the truth is unmasked, could she still love me? Would love be enough to battle our demons and come out on top?

I hate Dante Moretti. He is cold, calculating, and vicious. It’s no secret that he wiped out his former fiancée and her entire family on the eve of their wedding. He’s the kind of evil that makes even devils cry. But that’s not why I hate him.

In my dreams, I never escaped the Oregon woods. Life after death isn't easy to accept, especially when I still feel like a ghost. Now, I live deep in the mountains of Montana—the paradigm of beauty. But they are also the home of horrors. Horrors that I only unleash at night. When my pigs are allowed to feast.

Look, I've had it bad for the girl with all the curves next door forever. She turned me down in high school and since I'm not a total douchecanoe, I lusted after her all by myself in my shower, and we stayed just friends for years. Now she's the adorkable librarian next door, and I'm the star quarterback of the best pro football team in the league. So when she asks me to be her fake date to her all-girls school reunion, I am totally down to show her off to the mean girls who bullied her back then so they can see just how incredible she is.

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.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

I caught the attention of a monster. I didn’t ask for it. Didn’t even see it coming. But the moment I do, it’s too late. Killian Carson is a predator wrapped in sophisticated charm. He’s cold-blooded, manipulative, and savage. The worst part is that no one sees his devil side. I do. And that will cost me everything. I run, but the thing about monsters? They always chase.

He won’t tell me his last name, and maybe that should throw up a thousand red flags, but when I’m all alone in a new city and struggling to make ends meet, his texts are the lifeline I’ve been desperate for. I never would have answered that text if I’d known that Lincoln Daniels—superstar hockey player extraordinaire—was the one sending it. He’s trying to sweep me off my feet now. He says he’s obsessed. He wants me to wear his number…permanently. But is he still the wrong number, or can this hockey god prove he’s Mr. Right?