OAKLEY My sister’s wedding is across the country. And I don’t fly. So I do the next best thing: I schedule an Uber. Do the calculation. That’s 2,854 miles, and 44 hours in a car with a complete stranger. You may be wondering what could possibly go wrong, and you’d be right to because who in their right mind would ever Uber across the country with someone they don’t know? Me. That’s who. And everything that can go wrong? Pretty much does. BASH My friends and I have a bet. $10 000 for whoever can get the worst rating as an Uber driver. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. Because my passenger proves to be more trouble than she’s worth. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to see it through. You see, I went from being a trust fund brat, to a broke brat, and my friends have no idea. Which is why tolerating my passenger is my only option. The question is: will we kill each other on the road, or will we fall into bed together along the way? Only time will tell, and until then we’ll just drive each other batsh\*t crazy.

Tinder. The bane of my existence. But with my 30th birthday around the corner, I’m feeling the heat to jump into the deep end with both feet. Except, it’s not deep at all. It’s a kiddies pool filled to the brim with unsolicited pecker portaits, and ‘hey babe, wanna b@ng’. So when the first sem-decent guy, fifteen years my senior, swipes right, I think I might be one of the lucky ones. Until I’m not. Tinder. The bane of my existence. Only because my triplets thought it would hilarious to sign me up without my knowledge. It’s a disaster in the making, but considering my first marriage ended badly, I decide to jump feet first into the dating dumpsterfire. And the flames are too hot for my liking. But then my children swipe right on a woman fifteen years my junior, and I think maybe I’m willing to risk the flames. Until I’m not.

He’s Irish, and needs a wife. I’m a psychologist, and I absolutely don’t need a husband. Ever. I’m quite content to go on a date, have an orgasm, or two if he knows what he’s doing, and be on my merry way. Just not with Shea. Sounds simple, right? Wrong. On every level. I think he’s arrogant, and he thinks I’m crazy. I think he’s in trouble, and he thinks a dating app is the answer. Whatever floats his boat, I guess. Unfortunately, I develop a penchant for studying him, and now, he has a penchant for irritating me. I don’t understand half the things that come out of his mouth—I’m not stupid, he just has an accent—and he ignores almost everything that comes out of mine, especially when I’m telling him to leave me alone. I thought my push-back was stronger, but it’s no match for his determination. And he invalidates my theory that it’s impossible to lose your mind. Because when I see that one little line on his dating profile, that’s exactly what happens. I lose my mind. Or maybe he blows my mind in bed, I’m not sure. Either way, I come to hate the idea of him marrying a stranger on an app, and offer to be his solution instead. Sure, we’re compatible in bed, but even I know that’s not enough to sustain any kind of relationship, and that falling in love doesn’t just happen. Wrong again. Maybe he is better off marrying a BumbleF\*CK. Or maybe, I’ve just met my match.

Dear InstaFAM, I’m in the mother of all situation-ships, and it started with a mother-fluffing bunny from hell, and the sexy, tattooed veterinarian who all but made me adopt her. Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it happened, but that’s not important. What is important is that getting under his skin with my Bunny Chronicles on the ‘gram has become my new favorite pastime, and with three kids, and my own business, I need some entertainment of the grown-up variety. And he makes me want to do all kinds of grown-up activities. So here’s my dilemma: Do I initiate a friends with bunnies kind of thing, or do I ignore how he makes my heart jackrabbit in my chest? I mean, I know I’m a catch, but he has every reason to turn me down because I’m a hot mess all of the time, and it’s not likely I’m going to get my sh\*t together any time soon. But, if you see him, you’ll totally understand why I want to bunny-hop all over his, you know. So, tell me InstaFAM, do I take a chance and hope I won’t catch all the feels, or do I keep him in box labeled: My Bunny’s Doctor?

A Grumpy-Sunshine romantic comedy. A grumpy property mogul and a romance author walk into a bar... And it doesn't end there. Obviously. But you have to admit, it sounds like a really bad start to a romance novel. Unfortunately, that’s exactly how I met my muse. When my best friend sets me up on a blind date, I only agree because I’m struggling with that dreaded writer’s block with my newest book, and I need answers only a man can give me. I have no desire to really date, but when my date takes one look at me, and leaves, I find myself at a hotel bar. Enter Harlan Waters. That grumpy property mogul I mentioned earlier? That’s him. Sexy, masculine, and so very cranky, but willing to answer all my questions. You know how it goes. We have dinner, it’s extremely awkward, and then we’re in his room, having dessert, which is even more awkward. Until it’s not. I broke my own rule, never sleep with the muse, but even worse, I slept with a man who is taken. I’m not that woman, but I can’t deny that meeting Harlan sparked my creativity and filled the pages I was missing. I chalk it off to one night, another New York Times bestseller written and published, and call my therapist because my anxiety is up the whazoo. Then I see it. A boyfriend application on TikTok posted by his sister. The same woman who blew up his phone the morning after we you know. Have a thought about him since that night? Of course I have. The man inspired an entire novel. But does that mean I have the courage to look for him now that I know he’s single? Well, no. Not until he Taps my TokTik.

A Second Chance Romantic Comedy Ethan Woods. World-renowned patisserie chef, and Michelin-star rated restauranteur. But before he became those things, he was my first love. We shared a love for food, and pastry, and dreamed of opening up our own café/restaurant. And then he left. He broke my heart, boarded a plane, and moved to France in search of something more, something better. Something that wasn’t me, and the life we planned. So I moved on. With Ethan becoming nothing but a bad memory, I picked up the pieces of my life, my heart, and opened my very own café. Now he’s back. After a nasty divorce, Ethan is in New York. No big deal, I can handle it. Besides, what are the chances we’d bump into each other anyway? Pretty damn high, apparently. After showing up at my café unannounced, I quickly realize he’s a man on a mission, and the mission? Is me. It starts out safe enough, his attempt to get my attention love letters in the form of sweet treats. Treats we used to make together, when we were young and in love. However, my efforts to put it out of my mind, wanting it to mean nothing, prove to be pointless because it’s Ethan’s help I need when it becomes obvious my café is too small for my growing business. His help comes at a price though, and it means taking a risk and putting my heart on the line again. The chemistry in the kitchen is the same as it is in the bedroom (unfortunately) and after falling into his bed courtesy of too much alcohol, I’m left not only confused, but conflicted. My heart has always belonged to him, but now it’s my business that’s also on the line and I’m not sure if I’m ready to trust him. If this isn’t a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is.

I hate the holidays. So when my dear ol’ Dad tells me I need a date for our company’s annual Christmas Gala, my only option is a dating app. With Tinder, Bumble and Hinge being non-contenders (for obvious reasons), I’m left scraping the bottom of the barrel. Enter Plenty of Shi-Fish. All I need is an attractive man who can hold a decent conversation and make me look good, but what I get is a blast from the past. Forbes Macallan was my dad’s best friend and 18 years my senior. Neither of which stopped us from having an affair. I was just 18 at the time, and when he decided to go back to his wife, my life fell apart. Ten years later, he’s on the app from hell and it takes me a hot minute to realize it’s him. And when I do, my primary objective is to avoid, avoid, avoid. Unfortunately Forbes doesn’t like hearing no, and takes matters into his own hands. By showing up, unannounced, at my apartment. And just like that, we fall into old habits, even if our roles have been flipped—he’s pursuing me. Except I’m not a teenager anymore and grown-up me has as much chance of resisting Forbes as I do summoning Jesus from the Heavens.