What’s the actual last thing you’d ever want your executive assistant to see you doing the morning after you had hot, drunk, angry sex with her in a terrible hotel room? Dancing around your terrible hotel room to “Come and Get Your Love” like Star-Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy—naked? Yeah. Me too. And yet, here we are. This isn’t even the most unprofessional thing that’s happened between us in the past couple of weeks. The first was when I agreed to let her have Christmas Day off, but only if she goes with me to three family gatherings as my fake girlfriend. The second was when she caught me belting out a Christmas song on stage in the awful hotel bar. The third was the hot, drunk, angry sex that followed, but I do not regret it. And she hasn’t even found out the real reason I need her by my side this holiday season. I need to pull it together before I do the dumbest, most unprofessional thing of all—fall head over heels in love with the only assistant who’s lasted more than a month at the job and claims to hate me and my moods more than she hates eggnog. And I’ve seen how much she hates eggnog.

Cancel your dinky little roomette on the train. I’m booking us two of the big bedroom suites. I’ll cancel it AFTER you’ve booked the other sleeper rooms. And reimburse you. Don’t worry about it. Just cancel your tickets. I got this. Round trip. I’m on the Amtrak website right now. You don’t have to leave NYC when I do! You’ll hardly be able to spend any time with your Instagram girlfriend that you've never met! It’s fine. She’ll be fine with it. Cancel your tickets. You aren’t going to stop texting me until I’ve canceled them, are you? Damn right I’m not. Just do it. You can thank me later. \\\* Um. Did you cancel your tickets? Yes, Edward. I canceled them. Okay, because it turns out they only had one Family Bedroom from LA to Chicago. But the good news is I booked it for us. It’s the biggest room they had. The bad news is I booked it for us. And it’s the only sleeper room they have left now. In related news, there was also only one room left from Chicago to New York. Hands up if you’re excited! \man raising hand emoji\ I am so mad at you right now. \\\* I’ve compiled a list of ground rules re shared train bedroom. Check your email, please read carefully, and refer to it again on the ninth of February. Thank you. \nerd face emoji\ Received. I have some notes. \\\This is a 55,000 word very low angst friends to lovers standalone novel\\\

You might think the problem would be waking up in Vegas, hungover, next to a beautiful woman who’s wearing your boxer briefs and finding out ya married her in the middle of an epic drunken night of festivities. But you’d be wrong. I, Nolan Cassidy, international charmer and maker of mischief have fallen head over heels for Cora Delaney. I want to be married to the lass. So you might think the problem would be that she wants an annulment. But again you’d be wrong—stop getting it so wrong. I, Nolan Cassidy, with my devil tongue and Irish accent, will no doubt change her mind. Does the problem lie in that she has a son who doesn't like me and is as clever and crafty as I? Or that I’ve only got one month—until St. Patrick’s Day—to prove to my one true love that I can be a good husband and father? C’mere and I’ll tell ya… None of that is the problem. I’m a problem. My boxing days may be behind me but the fight never left me. When I see something I want, I get it. And nothing is going to stand in my way. Not my new wife’s hesitation nor her son’s doubts. So buckle up, strap in. Because I’m no longer in the business of wanting. I’m in the business of having. Which is gonna make for one wild Paddy’s Day.

Halloween: it’s a holiday where people shed their boring everyday personalities and become fantastic beings ready for an epic party. Well, guess what? That’s Billy Boston 24/7, 365, baby! It’s who I was before I became a millionaire and it’s who I’ll always be. My beautiful next door neighbor, Donna, is a hardworking nurse who takes her job seriously and her fun even more so. All she wants is a no-strings arrangement and that’s fine by me. It’s Halloween for us every time we’re together because she likes to role play. There’s no way to get attached if we’re both pretending to be someone else, right? It’s all smooth as a good whiskey until my married cousins bet me that I can’t get a serious girlfriend by November. So, Donna and I make a deal: She’ll help fix me up to be a proper boyfriend and I’ll help fix up the farmhouse she inherited. The one she thinks is haunted. And that’s not the scary part. Because I realize I’m falling wicked hard for Donna. For real. She’s spooked by the ghost, but I’m afraid I’ll spook _her if I tell her how I really feel. We made a pact when we started this no-strings thing: If either of us gets serious, we have to end it. I have to trick Donna into thinking she’s teaching me how to date, when really I’m treating her to dates with me. But if I screw this up, I’ll lose the woman I’m in love with. And that’ll haunt me forever._

What’s the actual last thing you’d ever want your celebrity crush to see you doing when you finally come face-to-excruciatingly-handsome-face with him? Singing and dancing around by yourself to “Dreams” by The Cranberries while drinking straight from a bottle of champagne? While you’re wearing some wedding gown you just found in a closet? Yeah. Me too. And yet, here we are. At a mountain cabin I was sent to by the awfully pretty actress/pretty awful human I work for to get things ready for her romantic New Year’s Eve getaway with him. That’s not even the worst thing about the way I meet Holden Archer. The actress has been paying me to have textual relations with him, pretending to be her—and she doesn’t even like him! Is it terrible that a snowstorm prevents us from leaving and the actress from getting here? Neither Holden nor I think so. Because it turns out our connection goes back a lot further than those texts. And just like in all my favorite romantic comedies, it’s what got us here that is the most amazing part of the story. Will my lack of experience cause me to freeze up when we go from inbox to in person? Or will a dreamy movie star melt my inhibitions and make all my secret New Year wishes come true?