I'm Rhett. I'm cocky because I can be. I've got it all: the looks, the money, the endurance. I'm the guy that every girl wants to be with, yet none of them have ever been able to tie me down. I don't do love. I don't do relationships. And I sure as hell will never do marriage. I'm all about the fast life and everything that entails. There's a different woman in my bed every week. My friends are jealous of me. My enemies envy me. Everyone wants my life. And everything in my life is absolutely perfect. At least, that's what everyone thinks.

I just wanted to have some fun.... It all started when I moved into my new apartment in Brooklyn and met my neighbor, Olivia. We became fast friends and so when she had to go out of town on an emergency work trip, I agreed to give her brother her keys so he could look after her dog. And then I met him. Her brother was Carter Stevens and he was sex on legs. He was a banker by day and a musician by night; arrogant, handsome, with the most tantalizing smile I’d ever seen. When he invited me to his show, I couldn’t say no.

Laurel Lake held the title America’s Friendliest Town for seventeen years running, and friendly was just what I needed right now. Unfortunately, friendly wasn’t the welcome I got when I arrived. Instead, I got Fox Cassidy. My tall, dark, and burly neighbor, who grunted at me instead of saying hello. Okay, so I might’ve had his mailbox in my hands the first time we met. And it might’ve been a little crushed after removing it from under my tire. And I might’ve needed his help breaking into the place I was staying in after the key broke off in the lock.

I pretended to be the girlfriend of one of the richest men in New York City. It was only meant to be the one time. I mean it was the week before Christmas, I was shopping with my best friend and we were hungry and wanted to dine at the new swanky restaurant on the upper west side. For some reason the hostess misheard me when I mentioned Max Parker’s name. I’d been complaining that he was the reason why I’d lost my job. Who was I to correct her when it meant that “my relationship” had caused a table to suddenly open up?

It had been one year, two months and seventeen days since my last date. So my best friend Abby decided to sign me up for a dating app. She guaranteed that she could get me the best date of my life within one week. I didn’t really want to do it, but I figured what did I have to lose? Turns out that I had.

I’m Pippa Chase. I was about to become Pippa Snothead, but then my fiance cheated on me and I called off the wedding...I’m heartbroken, but at least I avoided a horrible last name. Now I’m on my way to Paradise Valley, Montana to lick my wounds and figure out what’s next in my life. I’m going to live with my childhood best friend TJ Wyatt, on a ranch he bought. Ever since we were young we had a pact, if ever one of us needed the other, we would be there for each other.

Strange men do funny things when you score the last cinnamon roll. Sometimes he rages about the high crime of jacking his precious pastry. Sometimes he offers you ludicrous bribes to buy it back. And sometimes—after shattering your faith in humanity—you find out he's your new boss. I'm not laughing.

City girl in Montana looking for her Romeo. Sounds like the start to a Hallmark movie right? Well, it would, if they had movies about idiot women flying across the country to marry a man they’d never met. That’s what I did. I responded to an ad in a newspaper that I found on the train. And now I’m trying to find Horseshoe Ranch so that I can marry some cowboy I’ve never even seen. And no, this isn’t the 1800s. I’m just desperate. To make matters worse, the cowboy doesn’t even know I’m coming. I figured life couldn’t get any worse in Montana. I was wrong.

It was supposed to be the best day of my life. But the second I got up, things started to fall apart. The kitchen just caught on fire. Flowers were from a funeral. My bride-to-be just had an allergic reaction, leaving by ambulance. Oh, and my ex-girlfriend just walked into the church. They say you have to see the signs when they are right in front of you. Maybe she was just mine to have.

I would like to request more information about the assistant job I saw advertised in Sunday’s newspaper with the six-figure starting salary. I have a bachelors degree in English and many years of work experience and think I would be a good fit for the job. My questions are as follows: 1. What is the exact nature of the job? 2. Is it a strict requirement that I live with the boss? If so, can I have friends and others over? 3. The ad states there is a uniform. May I ask what sort of uniform? And why?  

My new neighbor is a firefighter - and a scorching-hot single dad - but I swear I didn’t set off that smoke alarm on purpose. (And I was beyond mortified when he rushed in and saw me naked.) Nothing happened, of course - because I, Winnie MacAllister, romance junkie and owner of a constantly broken heart, have sworn off men for one solid year. Even protective men with chiseled jaws, bulging biceps, and deep brown eyes that make my breath come faster.

Dear diary, I’m having the absolute worst week. I’m having the absolute worst week. I was fired from my job at the coffee shop because of some ridiculously grumpy hot Wall Street-looking banker and a bad cup of coffee I made. But the story gets worse because the guy that got me fired is now my new boss. I, Harriet Campbell, am now a housekeeper for a billionaire. And get this, this morning, he walked into my bedroom at 5:00 a.m. demanding his breakfast, and I may have told him to make it himself, which led to him pulling the sheets off the bed and revealing that I slept in the nude....

To the rude guy in apartment five, I’m glad you’re happy to have moved into a new apartment, but no: I do not want to have a beer with you. I do not want to have a nude sleepover. I do not want to make you breakfast, lunch or dinner, no matter how many lap dances you promise to give me. I do not need you to serenade me through the walls at 1am. And no, I have no interest in letting you take me on a date. Sincerely, Magnolia Allen

My roommate invited me to a party. I didn’t realize it was for a Mafia boss who was looking to select a wife. There were hundreds of women there, hoping to win the honor, but he was not my idea of a Prince Charming. He was tall, arrogant, cold, austere, and the most handsome man I’d ever seen. They called him Antonio “The Wolf” Marchesi, and the name sent a shiver down my spine. I decided to leave the party before my real identity was discovered. I climbed down a tree and slipped, and he caught me at the bottom. He held me like he didn’t want to let go.

Nothing in my life is going as planned. I haven’t been discovered walking down the street in my $40 Old Navy skinny jeans and told I have “The Look,” my hopes for achieving a Guinness World Record for most chocolate bars eaten isn’t even close, and no one in my family takes my writing seriously.