Let your homeless best friend stay with you, he said. Being roommates will be fun, he said. It's only temporary, he said. He never said I'd fall for him. You know what isn't temporary? The endless stream of dirty socks in my bathroom and empty food packets under the sofa - and don't even get me started on the hot guys who take over my living room every Sunday to watch sports. I can't take anymore. So I propose a roommate agreement. One that will bring peace and order back to my life, complete with rules that might just stop my newfound crush on my best friend in its tracks. 

It’s not you. It’s me. No, seriously. It is me. Not only does my name literally mean “unfortunate”, but that’s the story of my life. Everything I touch turns to crap. An apartment fire - that I swear I was not responsible for - means I’m living back at home with my sex-mad parents. Yay, me! Which is why I need my new job as personal assistant to Cameron Reid to get back on my feet. Three months in this job and I can move back out and, hopefully, remember to turn off my flat iron once in a while. 

Top tip: Don't put out an online ad offering your services as a fake date. Someone will take you up on it - and it won't just be for one night. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up being Mason Jackson's fake girlfriend. He didn't even want me to be. No - his sister was solely responsible for me being his date for his 10-year high school reunion. And now, she's responsible for telling his parents our relationship is real. We have no choice. We have to act like this isn't all a mistake. 

Let me make this clear right here, right now: I, Halley Dawson, do not care that Preston Wright is kissing other women. Not a lick. Not at all. Nuh-uh-freakin'-uh. I do care that he's doing it six feet away from me behind a gaudy velvet curtain - making him my competition in this year's kissing contest. Why do I care, you ask? Because I've had an unfortunate crush on the insufferable idiot since I was 16 years old, but I also know it's never going to happen. 

It should be the most shocking news I’d ever gotten - my boyfriend is getting married. Okay, technically he’s my ex-boyfriend. Two months ago he decided he wanted a break. I still thought he was my happily-ever-after. On any other day, knowing he was gone for good would be the worst thing that could possibly happen. But not today. Because not only is my boyfriend getting married - his bride is my best friend. And they’ve sent me an invitation. There’s no way I’m going to attend. I don’t care if it’s in beautiful Scotland. Nothing and no one could convince me.

Let it be known that I, Holley Stuart, do not give a single rat's behind about pro baseball's star pitcher Sebastian Stone. I definitely don't care that he's standing in my bookstore. Nor do I care that he seems to have forgotten about the last time we saw each other: senior prom, when he both humiliated me and broke my heart, albeit unknowingly. Now, he needs a date to his sister's wedding. Don't ask me how I ended up being it - I have no idea. But that's the least of my problems. His grandfather is adamant we're dating, and Seb isn't in a hurry to convince him otherwise.

All Beau Montgomery, one of Charleston's most eligible bachelors, wants to do is build boats. He has no interest in marriage whatsoever...until it means he might not get his inheritance and he can kiss his boat-building dreams good-bye. Gwen has loved Beau Montgomery since she used to run barefoot around the marina as a scrappy preteen tomboy. Knowing she'll never fit into his high-society family, she decided long ago she'd become his indispensable best friend rather than not be in his life at all. When he tells her he needs to marry in order to fulfill his dreams, she panics....

It all started with a sexy selfie. Texted to the wrong number. Oops. Not my finest moment - but I have nothing to be ashamed of. She thought I was no better, and I quote, than the knuckle-dragging douchebags she was never dating again. It was a stupid dare from a girl I’d met online, but since she’d given me a fake number, I didn’t feel bad that my interests were suddenly focused elsewhere - on the fiery and sharp-tongued Peyton that I found myself sparring with over text. The following day, my case of mistaken identity came back to bite me in the banana.

Trust me when I say that Rowan Michaels fever is alive and well at Western University. His fanbase is legendary. The guy is a major player. Both on and off the field. Girls fall all over themselves to be with him. They fill the stands at football practice, show up at parties he’s rumored to be at, and basically stalk him around campus. It’s a little nauseating. Don’t these girls have any self-respect when it comes to a hot guy? Fine...I’ll admit it, he’s good looking. If you’re into that kind of thing. Which I’m not.

What a disaster! I only just made my flight to New York to help my uncle, and the phone I'm holding is not mine! It seems to belong to some commitment-phobic serial dater who's never made it past four dates (according to the constant notifications he's getting from his fake dating profile).... And worse? I have a sinking feeling it's that hot suit-monkey with the arctic grey eyes I just had a run-in with at the airport. Somehow, I have to persuade him not to get a new phone until I get back. My whole life is on that phone. I knew I should have backed it up. It's only a few days. Surely, we can handle it.

When a hockey player with a major PR problem finds himself on a bad date with a redhead, he has to tough it out for five dates without flaking - or falling in love. 

The first book in the scorching new Hot Jocks series by New York Times best-selling author Kendall Ryan - available in audio first! I've never been so stupid in my entire life. Elise Parrish, my teammate's incredibly sweet and gorgeous younger sister, should have been off-limits, but my hockey stick didn't get the memo. After our team won the championship, our flirting turned physical, and I took her to bed. Then shame sent her running the next morning from our catastrophic mistake.

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I’d had four years to stew on what Daria Followhill did to me...now my heart was completely iced. I took her first kiss. She took the only thing I loved. I was poor. She was rich. The good thing about circumstances? They can change. Fast. Now, I’m her parents’ latest shiny project. Her housemate. Her tormentor. The captain of the rival football team she hates so much. Yeah, baby girl, say it. I’m your foster brother. There’s a price to pay for ruining the only good thing in my life. She’s about to shell out some serious tears.

Pampered heiress Georgianna Watkins has a party-girl image to maintain, but all the shopping and clubbing is starting to feel a little bit hollow - and a whole lot lonely. Though Georgie would never admit it, the highlights of her week are the mornings when she comes home at the same time as her uptight, workaholic neighbor is leaving to hit the gym and put in a long day at the office. Teasing him is the most fun Georgie's had in years - and the fuel for all her naughtiest daydreams.