Cold Hearted

I'm in the midst of scrawling "I quit!" onto his fancy cardstock letterhead when my boss corners me. He needs a favor, he says. And then he asks how well I can act. Hudson Rutherford needs a fiancée. With his old-moneyed parents forcing him to marry some bratty hotel heiress and his hedonistic, playboy lifestyle at stake, the only way to get them to back off is to make them think he's truly, madly, deeply in love...with me - his third personal assistant this year. But I can hardly stand working for him as it is.

Dear Isaiah, eight months ago, you were just a soldier about to be deployed and I was just a waitress, sneaking you a free pancake and hoping you wouldn't notice that my gaze was lingering a little too long. But you did notice. We spent one life-changing week together before you left, and we said goodbye on day eight, exchanging addresses at the last minute. I saved every letter you wrote me, your words quickly becoming my religion. But you went radio silent on me months ago, and then you had the audacity to walk into my diner yesterday and act like you'd never seen me in your life.

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.

Fake engaged to the hottest quarterback in the country? Score. They say nothing compares to your first kiss, but our first kiss was orchestrated for an audience. Our second kiss...that one was real. He cradled my face like he was terrified he'd f--k it up. He stared into my eyes until the air buzzed. Soft and slow, full of sighs and little laughs, he inhaled me like I was the finest Belgian chocolate, and he'd never get another piece.

I was warned about Tristan Cole. "Stay away from him," people said. "He's cruel." "He's cold." "He's damaged." It's easy to judge a man because of his past. To look at Tristan and see a monster. But I couldn't do that. I had to accept the wreckage that lived inside of him, because it also lived inside of me.

Vaughn West is at the height of his acting career. He's the it man of Hollywood - until the ultimate betrayal sends him into a downward spiral of alcohol-infused days, ending with a different woman in his bed every night. His only way out of the funk is accepting a new movie deal with the hottest director in Hollywood. Charlotte Michaels is a designer-brands girl on a thrift-store budget until she lands the mother of all jobs as Vaughn West's wardrobe assistant on his latest movie. Only their first meeting doesn't go as planned, and now, Vaughn is acting like a jerk.

Good things come in extra-large, smoking hot packages. Things like pizza. The very pizzas that I deliver for my dad's restaurant, Peretti's Pizza. It's a temporary job, something to pay the bills until I graduate from school, but it does the trick. In fact, it's working quite well - until Ryan Pierce of the Minnesota Stars decides to order a pizza from me, and life as I know it turns upside down. You see, Ryan Pierce doesn't just open his front door. He opens it buck naked.

The name on the screen was "Absinthe". But I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late-night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the filthiest little...mutually satisfying exchanges...I'd ever experienced in my life. We'd never met. Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, "You wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?"

Damian Tate. One look into his sad green eyes and I was hooked. I wanted to be the one to make him laugh, to make him smile. I hadn't expected him to be the one to make me blush, to make me hot...to make me fall in love. He was my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. I wanted forever with him, but life got in the way.

I shouldn't have remembered him. He was just a guy who walked through a restaurant. I didn't know his name. We never made eye contact. There was no connection between us at all. But I could feel him. The tingle down my spine. The command in his presence. The snap of tension in the air around him. That was the first time I saw him, and I was captivated.

A perfect storm led me to this place. Ghosted by my fiance, I was suddenly broke, heartbroken and facing eviction. Enter Mason Leo, the six feet and two inches of pure muscle and arrogance I've hated with a passion since the day we met. The man is cocky, womanizing, and ruinously gorgeous. Worse than that, he's my ex's brother. And for the next two weeks, he gets to do with me as he pleases. I'll explain. With both our exes - wait for it - set to marry each other in St. Lucia, I've agreed to let Mason pay my debts so long as I play his date.

The first time you meet someone, you make eye contact. You smile, say hello. Should be simple, if you're anyone but me. The first time I met Dylan Reed, I found myself making eye contact with a different part of his body. You see, I'm very good at being shy, not to mention extremely well-versed in rambling nonsense and, unfortunately, rather highly skilled at making a fool of myself in front of a guy I'm attracted to. At the time, I knew nothing about him and thought none of what I said would matter since I'd never speak to him again. Turns out, I was very wrong.

I'll be the first to admit that I live at extremes. After going 10 years locked in what felt like a dysfunctional marriage, I'm now decidedly boy-free. In nearly three years I've had no boyfriends, no flings, no dates, and no sex. For the sake of my dream career, the sacrifice has been easy. At least it was. Until he came along. Lukas Hendricks. He's rude, gorgeous, arrogant - a stone-carved wall of muscle and distraction. He's everything I know to avoid but there's no avoiding your next-door neighbor.

Matthew Hansen is the kind of handsome that has grown women whispering behind their hands and giggling like schoolgirls. Dark, tall and mysterious, he's a newcomer to our little town. He's a gritty, grease-covered mechanic, and a single daddy. Sweet, right? Plus, he's looking for a nanny - and I am desperately looking for a job. Sounds like the perfect deal. Only he's a jerk. An uncivilized, hulking brute. Zero manners. Zero interest in making me feel welcome in his home. Downright rude. But oh, so sexy. And I need the job. I can do this.

It should have been easy. I needed the money. He needed a babysitter to keep him from snorting himself to death. I was cherry-picked especially for him. Responsible. Optimistic. Warm. Innocent. The worst part is that I should have known better. Alex Winslow. British rock star. Serial heartbreaker. Casanova with whiskey eyes. “Don’t get near the devil in a leather jacket. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.” Guess what? I didn’t listen. I signed the contract. World tour. Three months. Four Continents. 100 shows. My name is Indigo Bellamy, and I sold my soul to a tattooed god.