Dear Isaiah, eight months ago, you were just a soldier about to be deployed and I was just a waitress, sneaking you a free pancake and hoping you wouldn't notice that my gaze was lingering a little too long. But you did notice. We spent one life-changing week together before you left, and we said goodbye on day eight, exchanging addresses at the last minute. I saved every letter you wrote me, your words quickly becoming my religion. But you went radio silent on me months ago, and then you had the audacity to walk into my diner yesterday and act like you'd never seen me in your life.

Rhett Carson was as cold as the ice on which he skated. He was as calloused as the hands that shot the goals that won world championships. He was also damaged. And broken. And he didn't know it, but I knew all about him...and his unfortunate connection with my estranged older brother. I knew why he was so bitter and angry. I knew why he was so cold hearted. But I didn't know why I let myself fall in love with him. And I didn't know why I couldn't stop - even when he told me to.

His name is Royal, but he's no prince charming. He's not even a prince - though you could say I loved him once upon a time. He was my older brother's best friend. Growing up, he sat at our dinner table every Sunday, teased me mercilessly, and pretended I annoyed him. When I was old enough, he took me on my first date. Royal taught me how to drive. Escorted me to my junior prom. Gave me my first kiss...among other things. He was my first taste of toe-curling, all-consuming, can't-sleep love.

The moment Jude Warner walked into my life, he was just some handsome stranger in an expensive suit. A moment later I discovered he was my neighbor, both of us new to the building. Then he was the knight in shining armor who rescued my place from a late-night plumbing fiasco. The prince charming who offered me refuge and ice cream during a storm-fueled power outage. The bona-fide saint who volunteered to accompany me to my crazy sister’s wedding back in North Carolina. Falling for him was easy. Finding out exactly who he was? Earth-shattering.

The name on the screen was "Absinthe". But I knew her as the sultry voice blowing up my phone for late-night chats about Proust and Hemingway interspersed between the filthiest little...mutually satisfying exchanges...I'd ever experienced in my life. We'd never met. Until the day she walked into my office, her cherry lips wrapped around a candy apple sucker and an all too familiar voice that said, "You wanted to see me, Principal Hawthorne?"

The first time I met Winter Marks, I almost took her out with my Jeep. To be fair, she came out of nowhere. I flirted with her, and she flipped me off and disappeared into the woods on her bike. But she left me a souvenir: a single hockey skate. Seemed to me that divine intervention shouldn’t be ignored. She was my icy Cinderella, and I would be her Prince Not-So-Charming. Winter was more than just a sassy, badass hockey-playing hottie. She’s stuck in a prison of a life. And I’m the perfect escape. Neither of us expected to fall. Or for the truth to shatter us.

My obsession was born of innocence and good intentions, and it began the day I spotted a handwritten journal lying in the bushes outside a townhouse on Lexington Avenue. It was raining sideways that morning, and my plan was to return it the next day, safe and dry. Only I kept it. I kept it, and I read it. A week later, overwhelmed with curiosity and feeling guilty for harboring secrets that didn't belong to me, I tried to return it. Only I wasn't expecting to meet him. Unapologetically heartless and enigmatically sexy, he claims he knows nothing about the journal.

After a brush with death, I realize it’s time to make changes in my life. Big changes. First, my job. I love being a journalist, but I hate my megawatt magnate boss, West Maxwell. When he demands I rewrite an article on short notice, I turn the tables on him with a scathing new column and quit in a blaze of glory. But West isn’t about to let me go that easily, the jerk. He offers me an unexpected new position: mentor to his rebellious teenage niece. For some reason, I agree—I like helping people, but I’m also admittedly curious to glimpse the man behind the mogul.

It was an innocent mistake...All workaholic real estate broker Addison Andrews wanted was one night of pleasure, and picking the right guy was no different than shopping from a catalog, thanks to the dating app on her phone. His name was Wilder, and his profile was blank - just a sexy picture of a man who promised every wicked intention of a one-night stand. The agreement was simple. One night. No last names.

Bogie had Bacall. Carrie had Big. I had Wyatt. Growing up, he was the handsome cowboy next door - an unlikely confidant, my best friend, my first kiss, and my favorite person. We were just a couple of small-town kids with ambitions bigger than the stars in our eyes. The summer after graduation, we made a pact: I’d go to college in New York and he’d stay and take over his daddy’s ranch. If, by 28, we were both still single, we’d get married…But as we stood in our high school gymnasium the night of our 10-year reunion, Wyatt told me he loved me too much to marry me.

Reed York was never my boyfriend. He was the pen. I was the company ink. Though if you want to get technical, we were more like colleagues who hated each other...with benefits. Everything was fine until the charming jerk went behind my back, stole my promotion, and became my boss - literally overnight. Refusing to work beneath him, I transferred 2,014 miles away to our Chicago division. But he’s just announced a last-minute site visit the week between Christmas and New Year’s, and he’s audaciously designated me as his "right-hand gal" during his visit.

When some pretty little thing shows up at my doorstep with a suitcase, claiming she rented my house for the summer, I waste no time informing her that my house isn't for rent. Some Internet jack*ss scammed her out of all her money, but that's not my problem. Only when I find her sleeping in her car a couple days later, I can't turn my back. I make her an offer: room and board in exchange for working on my ranch. She agrees, and I open my doors to a girl who sings too loud, sticks her nose where it doesn't belong, and distracts me with her tight jeans and those full lips.

For the last year, I’ve wanted someone I can’t have. The man my father built his latest multimillion-dollar business with. He’s nearly a decade older than I am, and he’s entirely forbidden. The fact that he’s never given me a second glance only makes me long for him more.

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball. A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger. But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love. He’s fueled by revenge. To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage. His rival’s betrothed. To me, he is a man deserving of poison. A dark prince I refuse to marry. He thinks I’ll accept my fate. Well, I plan to rewrite it. And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die. But Romeo? He perishes.

Dear Melrose, The first time I met you, you were a stranger. The second time, you were my roommate. The third time, you made it clear you were about to become the biggest thorn my side had ever known. You sing way too loud in the shower and use all the hot water. You’re bossy as hell. You make my life all kinds of complicated. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. Truthfully...I can’t stop wanting you. I was going to tell you this.