Don’t sleep with your best friend. 
Take it from me. I did it. And it was awful. 
I-wish-the-tequila-made-me-forget kind of bad. 
The problem is, Luke has forgotten. He swears that he can’t remember a thing about that night beyond the trays of tequila shots being set on the tables. 
Except I can’t forget. I can’t forget how good his hands felt until I fell over and hit my hip on the dresser, and I sure as hell can’t forget the entire two minutes of tap-tap-squirt. 
Awkward. Embarrassing. And the new subject of a couple of dirty lucid dreams. 
But I have no intention of telling him what we did. Nothing good comes from telling your best friend he’s the worst guy you’ve ever slept with. 
Which makes the tequila on my birthday a very, very bad idea…

About the Author . . .

Confession One: I was a klutz. I thought I’d grow out of it, but evidently I didn’t. It’s not fun to look like a fumbling toddler when you’re twenty-six. 
Confession Two: I had a standing appointment at the local ER. It wasn’t by choice that I knew all the doctors names—it was necessity. But that was about to change. 
Confession Three: I hated the sun yet I lived in LA where it always shone. I supposed that was one plus to being sent to New York for the next eight weeks. 
That was until I got there. 
Arm veins, dimples and, THE sexiest voice known to man were my weakness, and he had every single one of them. 
Confession Four: He was my new boss. I could control myself though, right? 
The city of dreams… a klutz’s worst nightmare. Eight weeks. A klutz. And a drool worthy boss. What did you get when you crossed a klutz with a GQ model lookalike? I was about to find out.

Giveaway . . .

About the Author . . .

Confession One: I was a klutz. I thought I’d grow out of it, but evidently I didn’t. It’s not fun to look like a fumbling toddler when you’re twenty-six. 
Confession Two: I had a standing appointment at the local ER. It wasn’t by choice that I knew all the doctors names—it was necessity. But that was about to change. 
Confession Three: I hated the sun yet I lived in LA where it always shone. I supposed that was one plus to being sent to New York for the next eight weeks. 
That was until I got there. 
Arm veins, dimples and, THE sexiest voice known to man were my weakness, and he had every single one of them. 
Confession Four: He was my new boss. I could control myself though, right? 
The city of dreams… a klutz’s worst nightmare. Eight weeks. A klutz. And a drool worthy boss. What did you get when you crossed a klutz with a GQ model lookalike? I was about to find out.

Excerpt . . .

Giveaway . . .

About the Author . . .

From two USA Today bestselling authors comes a tale of miscommunication and muffins. 
​
Romy Love knows weddings. As the author of a hugely successful wedding blog, you’d think she’d have love covered. It is her last name, after all. 

When it comes to her big day, Romy has the flowers picked out, a dress collecting dust in the back of her closet, and a preacher on standby. There’s just one problem: the groom doesn’t know it yet. 

Romy has eyes for the Italian coffee god and single dad who owns the bakery in her building—she also has plans for his delicious buns—but in order to get her happily-ever-after, she has a few things to check off her list first: 

Lose twenty pounds 

Take over the blogging world one wedding at a time 

Make Coffee Hottie fall in love with me 

Yeah, this shouldn’t be difficult at all.

Excerpt . . .

About the Authors . . .