I’m alone and miserable in my favorite city in the world until a flirty–and much younger–man pretends to be my fiancé. I thought that by forty-two, I’d be happily married, but somehow, I’ve been the woman men want to date but don’t want to marry. And now, even my friends have left me alone in the city of love. Alone—except for Luc, the charming tour guide. He refuses to cancel the trip and reminds me what it’s like to feel sexy and desired. He even rekindles my love for Paris by showing me a side of the city few people see. Then we run into my ex . . . with his new fiancé on his arm and a smug look on his face. When Luc holds me close and tells a little lie, their surprise is so satisfying. Maybe a little too satisfying because I wind up in bed with my fake fiancé. The hottest night of my life certainly didn’t feel fake. Too bad I’m only here for the weekend.

Chris Rächer: brooding recluse, a member of Europe’s hottest band, and…my new roommate. I’ve pinched too many pennies. I’m in a foreign country, desperate for a decent place to live to stay close to my daughter. Enter my hero: Chris offers me a room at his house. Turns out, he’s a goth-punk musician who’s just launched into super-stardom and is striving to write the band’s next hit. I’m struggling to pay the bills by teaching yoga while trying to navigate living with a grumpy heartthrob. His gravelly voice and tortured-artist vibes shouldn’t be so sexy, but as the temperature drops outside, things heat up inside. He may not treat his body like a temple, but he worships mine. Our lives are complete opposites, and a widowed mom like me has no place in his. This can only end in heartbreak.

When my ex-husband shows up in Rome begging me to come back, my failed one-night-stand—and silver fox professor—sets out to prove that I can do better. Things aren’t going so well in my MBA program—being in a foreign country is overwhelming, I don’t remember being this terrible of a student, and my ex has just “popped in” to ask me to rekindle our relationship. Except the possibilities of that one night with Professor Santo were hotter than my entire twenty-year marriage. And when he finds out my ex is sniffing around, he wants a do-over. Even though I accidentally pepper-sprayed him...and despite the fact that sleeping with me could cost him his job. Living next door to each other means it would be easy to sneak around for some one-time extra credit. Because that's all it could ever be.