Rooftop Crew

I can't borrow him. He's not a sweater or a skirt. He's not even her favorite dress - the lucky one she wears on first dates. The one she probably wore on her first date with him. In my defense, I didn't know who he was. To me, he was a cool, calm, confident stranger. He was perfection for the entire hour-and-a-half train ride, while the concrete jungle turned into a rolling green landscape. To an outsider, we probably appeared more friends than hopeful lovers. But my blush came quickly, and his dimples indented with every smile. We definitely shared a spark of what could be. Too bad I didn't know who he was before I fell for him, because he can't be mine.

He's not your average Joe from the corner bar. He's the heir to the crown. I should know, I've followed him for years. Not in a stalkerish way. Magazines and online gossip blogs are fair game when you're royalty. But I do know every detail about him, down to the brand of boxer briefs he wears. All my studying of the man who plays a starring role in my dreams pays off when I win a dinner with him. As if that wasn't enough, he barters a deal with me that has him moving into my spare guest room. I forgot that fairy tales don't exist though because just as I'm about to get everything I want, including the prince, I find out there's someone in Prince Adrian Marx's life I don't know - his fiancée.

I've loved him from afar. Though most times he's only a foot away. I'm smart enough to know he'll never be anyone's forever. He checks all the bad boy boxes. Tattoos. Check. Motorcycle. Check. Chip on his shoulder. Check check. If he wasn't my neighbor and friend I may have thrown myself at him. Okay, yeah. I wouldn't. Because guys like Dylan don't want a woman who writes kid's math textbooks under him in bed. Instead, I pathetically savor morsels of moments where I have his sole attention. That was until his archenemy moved in with me. Now suddenly, Dylan's moving in too and warning off the first guy in a long time who's showing me interest. Could he finally see me as more than a friend, or am I just a prize to win and show off to his enemy?

She was always the one. Or so I thought. Turns out my instincts were dead wrong. Years ago I was faced with the choice between two women. Both were perfect in opposite ways. One was carefree and against commitment. The other was a woman you'd bring home to mom. I was young, naïve and stupid. I'm sure you can guess who I chose. Now, I'm older, wiser and know what the hell I want. So, when the same two women pop back into my life it's my chance for a do-over. But they flipped the script. Just like me, they want different things now. Leaving me with one choice-convince the woman I want that she wants me too.

Three tattoo guns. Five motorcycle tires. Countless t-shirts. That's what I lost before I realized nothing good comes from dating my coworkers. Usually, I don't have much self-control. So, the fact that Frankie Grant is a hot, talented tattoo artist means it's a damn miracle she hasn't already been in my bed. But nothing can happen between us because Frankie comes with Jolie, her young daughter, and a crapload of baggage from her ex. And those are two things I never entertain. Anyone who knows me - the screwed up foster kid from the wrong side of the tracks - knows I'm not the guy you take home to meet your parents, let alone your kid. But I also know what it's like not to have parents, so things get complicated when Jolie asks me to be her daddy. I might as well just slash my own tires now.

She's got two strikes against her. Her name is Erickson and her parents own The Bagel Place. It wasn't always that way. When we were nine, we were best friends. But then a feud between our dads ripped their successful business apart-and my best friend was ripped away too. Our paths were bound to cross again. When both our families vie for the same spot on a Food Channel's reality show, the producers decide to change the format, aligning us as allies. In order to get our parents to agree to work together, Evan asks me to pretend to be her boyfriend, but I dare her to up the ante-be my fiancée. Fake fiancée… obviously. As usual, I didn't think things through. Turns out our parents have a lot of demands neither one of us expected. And all those demands lead to things feeling more real than fake.