Sex, Not Love

It was just a typical Monday. Until the big boss asked me to make the pitch for a prospective new client. After two years on shaky ground at work because of my screw up, an opportunity to impress the senior partners was just what I needed. Or so I thought, until I walked into the conference room and collided with the man I was supposed to pitch to. My coffee spilled, my files tumbled to the ground, and I almost lost my balance. And that was the good part of my day. Because the gorgeous man who crouched down and looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive was none other than my ex.

Bad boys? They run right over good girls like Georgina Keller. But after a confidence-shattering breakup, she’s determined not to let anyone at her new workplace push her around - least of all the brooding creative director, a “bad boy of publishing”. Sebastian Quinn's taste for fast cars, late nights, and beautiful women may have gotten him to the top of a leading New York magazine, but the reputation that made him is suddenly threatening to end his career. Georgina can help Modern Man shed its bad reputation, but in order to do that, she’ll have to start at the top.

Growing up, the three of us were friends. He was the nerd. I was the playboy. She was the beauty. Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits. He lied. I went off to college, and he got the girl. Amber never knew how I felt. They were together for years - before he broke her heart. Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch. When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning. I was late for the first day at my new job - a job I’d now have to compete for, even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons. She’d ticketed a long line of cars - except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine. Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine.

Jake McKallister might have been a rock star, but he was no ordinary one. Surviving an unspeakable crime as a young teen had shaped him into a guarded workaholic, and he now lived his life trying to forget. If it hadn't been for music and the redemption he found through it, he might not have survived. Career success came easily for him. Personal connections did not.

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.

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. 

Everyone says opposites attract. And they must be right, because there’s no logical reason why I’m so drawn to Colin Fitzgerald. I don’t usually go for tattoo-covered, video-gaming, hockey-playing nerd-jocks who think I’m flighty and superficial. His narrow view of me is the first strike against him. It doesn’t help that he’s buddy-buddy with my brother. And that his best friend has a crush on me. And that I just moved in with them. Oh, did I not mention we’re roommates?

The first time I met Chase Parker, I didn't exactly make a good impression. I was hiding in the bathroom hallway of a restaurant, leaving a message for my best friend to save me from my awful date. He overheard and told me I was a bitch, then proceeded to offer me some dating advice. So I told him to mind his own damn business and went back to my miserable date. I couldn't help but sneak hidden glances at the condescending jerk on the other side of the room. Of course, he caught me on more than one occasion, and winked.

I'm getting really good at cutting my losses. First, the husband. Divorcing him was the best decision I ever made. But between single-parenting and job-hunting, I can't catch my breath. When a celebrity blogging position falls into my lap, I'm determined to succeed. That is, until I get my first assignment and actually see Noah Frazier for the first time...practically naked and dripping wet. My heart races and I forget how to form complete sentences. His chiseled abs, irresistible smirk, and crystal blue eyes are too perfect to be real. So, what do I do? Get drunk and humiliate myself, of course.

I'm writing this letter because it's highly doubtful I'll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. So, here goes. We're totally wrong for each other. You're the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I'm just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England. But here's the thing... for some bloody reason, I can't stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.

The first time I met Caine West was in a bar. He noticed me looking his way and mistakenly read my scowling as checking him out. When he attempted to talk to me, I set him straight -- telling him what I thought of his lying, cheating, egomaniacal ass. You see, the gorgeous jerk had wined and dined my best friend-smooth talking her into his bed, all along failing to mention that he was married. He deserved every bit of my tongue-lashing and more for what he'd done.

I’m an all-or-nothing man - 100 percent focused on whatever has my attention. First it was serving my country in the Special Forces. Then it was building my business. Right now it’s the hot blonde at the bar who’s about to become another notch on my bedpost.

For six generations, the women of wine country have had a saying: don’t bang a Hunter man unless you want a bun in your oven. Yeah, well. I’ve got a saying too: no thanks. The last thing I need is baby makes three. My business is expanding, and the only thing I’m interested in getting knocked up is my bottom line. But then one night, Emma Haverford makes me an offer I can’t refuse - she backs away from the land I have my eye on in exchange for a favor...a big, fat, baby-making favor....

When you think about how easy it is to lose keys, phones, sunglasses and your dignity on social media, you might figure it'd be a cinch for me to ditch my V Card. You'd be wrong. At 25, I run a successful business, live in a fantastic apartment, and have fabulous friends to go out with any night of the week. And yet I'm still a card-carrying member of a club I don't want to belong to anymore. Good thing I know just the man for the deflowering job - my brother’s business partner and best friend.