He's back. Not just back in town, but living in the flat right beneath mine. And he looks good enough to eat, which is just one more reason to stay away from him. But I can't resist. The sex is incredible (pretty sure we've shaken the house right off its foundation), but he can't fool me - not this time. A degree in marketing and five years in advertising have taught me that "true love" is a fairy tale used to sell lipstick, diamonds, and perfume. It doesn't exist. He thinks I'm wrong, and he wants to prove it. I think he's crazy, so I dare him to try.

The first time I laid eyes on Lydia Decker, I couldn’t speak. Or breathe. Or string two coherent thoughts together. And I don’t mean any of that figuratively. No, when I first laid eyes on Lydia Decker - my physical therapist - I was lying flat on my back in the ICU, high as a kite on painkillers, breathing on a ventilator, my bones as broken and splintered as my spirit. She said she’d been assigned to fix me. But what I didn’t know...what I couldn’t possibly know...was that Lydia Decker needed fixing far more than I ever did.

I didn't mean to sneak a peek at my older brother's best friend. But when I catch him showering by mistake, I can't help but look. The guy is massive - and I do mean everywhere. We're all home to celebrate Dad's retirement as one big happy family, except my newlywed brother's already getting divorced, my mom keeps asking why I'm still single, and most frustrating of all, Barrett Wilson is staying with us at my parents' home for the weekend. I've known Barrett for years, so why am I suddenly noticing so many new things about him - like how big he is? It's maddening.

The world’s sexiest firefighter is about to get a second chance with the virgin next door.... He’s bossy, arrogant, and so ridiculously hot that he should come with a warning label and a pair of flame-retardant coveralls. He’s also the boy who broke my heart when we were in high school. I want to move in next door to Ryan O’Dell the way I want to be the virgin gamer geek suddenly in charge of running my sister’s sex-toy factory. Too bad both are written in my stars.

I’m not boyfriend material. If a trail of broken hearts and a piss-poor record of failed relationships have taught me anything, it’s this. My buddies are happy to give me shit about my latest breakup from here to next Sunday. Thanks, but I’d rather have a root canal. And a vasectomy. At the same time. Relief comes in an unlikely package - the gorgeous and feisty Maren. She just so happens to be my best friend’s sister, so that’s not awkward at all.