Tyler Redwood, you might be my brother’s best friend, but I find you to be insufferable, cocky, arrogant, immature, and totally annoying. You are not God’s gift to women and certainly not a gift to me. No, I don’t need you to wrap yourself in a bow. And even if you did, I would not be unwrapping it.

The first time I met Hudson Rothschild was at a wedding. I’d received an unexpected invitation to one of the swankiest venues in the city. Hudson was a groomsman and quite possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. He asked me to dance, and our chemistry was off the charts. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with him, considering the wedding I was at. But our connection was intense, and I was having a great time. Though the fun came to a screeching halt when Hudson figured out I wasn’t who I’d said I was.

Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer. After that night, we became friends. He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff. But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer. Until one night we crossed the line.  

The feud between Weston Lockwood and me started at the altar. Only neither of us attended the wedding, and the nuptials happened decades before either of us was born. Our grandfathers had been best friends and business partners, at least up until my grandfather’s wedding day - when his bride-to-be blurted out she couldn’t marry him because she was also in love with Weston‘s grandfather.  

What I wanted for my birthday: Books. What I got for my birthday: my brother’s best friend playing matchmaker. Let it be known that I am 100 percent against being set up with somebody. And I’m 1,000 percent sure that Josh Carter's not the man to find me a boyfriend. I mean, if I’m so great, why isn’t he the one dating me? (For the record, I don’t know the answer. That’s just what the guy on the internet asked.) I’ll humor him. If I go on his little dates, he’ll teach my bookish, introverted self how not to be totally, completely, utterly, unforgivably awkward.

Lexington Dane was my brother’s best friend growing up. We did everything together. He taught me how to throw a punch, how to change a tire...and he taught me how to kiss. I fell hard and fast, and gave him all my firsts. I promised I’d wait for him.... But I’m done waiting, because he went off to college and never came back. He took his fancy business degree and moved to New York City, where he promptly became a real estate mogul - turning every penthouse and apartment project he touched into gold. 

I'm Vicky, the dog whisperer. (Not really, but that's what my elderly neighbor says whenever I walk her dog, Smuckers.) When she dies, she surprises everybody by leaving a corporation worth billions to Smuckers...and she leaves Smuckers to me. Suddenly, I go from running my Etsy store to sitting in an elegant Wall Street boardroom with Smuckers in my lap. And my neighbor's son, Henry Locke, aka New York's most eligible bachelor, glaring across the table at me. Rumor has it Henry's a business genius who's as talented in the bedroom as he is in the boardroom.

Let me list the reasons why dating the sexy, charming pro hockey star is a bad idea: He’s one of my closest friends. All our friends are friends. The wounds I’ve got from past relationships go deep. And so do his. We’re both devoutly single - it’s just safer for the heart that way. But there’s no reason not to bid on the gorgeous, clever athlete at the charity auction this weekend. If I win, it’ll be a "friendsdate". 

I can’t believe I have to go home to Nebraska for my sister’s wedding. I’m gonna need a wingman and a whole lot of vodka for this level of family interaction. At least my bestie agreed he’d man up and help. Too bad he had to catch a different flight than me. Then, his plane got delayed. And finally - because bad things always happen in threes - instead of my best friend, his evil twin walks out of the airport. If you looked up doesn’t-deserve-to-be-that-confident, way-too-hot-for-his-own-good billionaire in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Grady Holt. He’s awful.

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?  

I’ve loved him from afar. Though most times he’s only a foot away. I’m smart enough to know he’ll never be anyone’s forever. He checks all the bad boy boxes. If he wasn’t my neighbor and friend, I may have thrown myself at him. Okay, I wouldn’t. Instead, I pathetically savor morsels of moments where I have his sole attention. That was until his archenemy moved in with me. Now suddenly, Dylan’s moving in, too, and warning off the first guy in a long time who’s showing me interest.

It starts like any other Monday for Ty Christianson. Fifty laps in his pool, a suave suit, a chat with his mum on the way to his office, dodging countless calls from women, and his faithful yet cynical assistant waiting for him with a coffee. Then a meeting with his business partner and life-long friend Sal upends everything. Sal's hired a new assistant without so much as consulting Ty. That's a cardinal sin in their world, but it's the least of Ty's worries. Sal hasn't just hired a new personal assistant, he's hired an absolute goddess - and she's off-limits to Ty.

If you’re a guy like me, and you find yourself having banged your sexy new boss - the school principal - in the back of your Jeep one drunken night, here’s a few takeaways based on my experience. Lesson One: Always get her full name. Lesson Two: Consider asking what she does for a living. Lesson Three: Find out why she’s moved to town. Get details. Details are crucial....

Brooke Chapman-Powell takes her position as the Earl of Englefield’s personal secretary very seriously. This job is what keeps her sister in the university for the deaf and the town from completely shutting down. But the earl is dying, and they have only one hope: an American, from some place called Salvation, Virginia. Now she will have to teach the in-all-likelihood-uncouth-and-lazy half American how to be a proper earl if they hope to save the village. God help them all.

The beginning of my sophomore year in college was off to a rough start. On the first day of orientation, I had an altercation with an infuriating British dude in a campus bathroom. (The ladies’ room was out of order. So, I used the men’s room. Don’t judge.) I got home later that night and realized that the foreign student we were expecting to rent a room in my parents’ house was allergic to our cat. So, the spare room went to someone else: Caleb - the British guy from the men’s room. And so it began...my love-hate story with Caleb Yates. Or was it hate-love in that order?