He was someone who belonged in my wildest fantasies instead of a rest stop in the middle of Nebraska. A sexy, cocky Australian named Chance was the last person I expected to run into on my cross-country drive. When my car broke down, we made a deal. Next thing I knew, we were traveling together, spending sexually tense nights in hotels, and taking unplanned detours. My ordinary road trip turned into the adventure of a lifetime. It was all fun and games until things got intense.

My love story all started with a letter. Only it wasn’t from the man I’d eventually fall in love with. It was from his daughter. A sweet little girl named Birdie Maxwell who’d written to the magazine that I worked for. You see, once a year my employer fulfilled a few wishes for readers. Only that column didn’t start up again for months. So I fulfilled some of her wishes myself. It was harmless…so I thought. Until one day I took things too far. While anonymously granting yet another of Birdie’s wishes, I got a look at her father.

Money or love? Which would you choose? You probably just answered the question in your head, thinking it's an easy decision. For me, it's not. Did I mention it's a lot of money? A hell of a lot. I needed to go far away to think it through. As I embarked on an impulsive trip, I hit a detour when I met sexy Carter in the airport lounge. We struck up a heated conversation. Then, he left. I thought I'd never see him again. But fate had other plans. Surprise! He was the pilot of my flight.

I’d never forgotten him - a man I’d yet to meet. Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break. Until one day, it did. Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one - one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing. Griffin forgave me, and we were able to rekindle our childhood connection.

Zach Lockwood is irresistible. He's charming. He's confident. He's got a smile that brings me to my knees. Or at least, I wish it brought me to my knees. There's only one problem: Mr. Lockwood is my boss. Otherwise known as: Off. Limits. But off-limits doesn't mean a girl can't look, right? What's the point in having a Sex God CEO if you can't indulge in a few innocent fantasies? Well, innocent might not be the right word for them.

He walked into school on his first day and owned it. I guess that's what happens when you're a prick, rich, and you're best friends with the ruling school's king. Also didn't hurt that he's drop-dead gorgeous. That's all fine. I mean, I have nothing to do with them. I'm a loner, invisible, and that's how I wanted it to be. I was even proud of it, until I wasn't. His name is Blaise Devroe. My name is Aspen Monson. He only knew how to get, command, and demand attention. I knew how to do everything but that. And this is our story.

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.

Riley Kennedy’s emails keep getting crossed with her male colleague, Kennedy Riley. The infuriating man forwards them along with his annoying commentary and unsolicited advice. At least she never has to see him in person, since they work in different locations…until they come face to face at the office holiday party.

Hermosa Beach seems to be the place for throwing together unlikely opposites. My rooster Rowdy and his new crush, Pixy the goat. Me and the obnoxiously cocky cowboy from Texas.... But unlike Rowdy and Pixy, there’s no way I’m going to fall for David Strickland. Nope. Not gonna happen. I could never be with a man so completely opposed to everything I believe...no matter how hot he is.

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.