And I’m not talking about my ever-ailing phone or the temperamental Smart Board in my classroom. I’m talking about the internationally hailed “Tech Genius” formerly known as the boy I used to love. It was bad enough seeing that cocky smile staring back at me from my newsfeeds, the gossip sites, and—fine—the scorchingly hot men’s fitness magazine I bought in a moment of weakness. But now he’s back home, teasing me with the memories I’ve tried to leave behind, crowding into my space and taunting me with the kiss I can’t resist. I know it’s only a matter of time before I lose him again. He’s already told me he isn’t staying, warned me he’s changed. I know better than to let him get too close, so why can’t I push him away?HANKThey call me a visionary. An innovator. Hell, last week a headline touted me as the billion-dollar geek keeping Silicon Valley’s panties wet. Try living that down. Strip away the media BS, and I’m just a tech-minded guy with my eyes on the future and no time for a past I can't change. So what am I doing following the sweet sound of its laugh back to the woman who passed on our chance at forever?I tell myself all I want is to say hello. To see her smile. Just a few minutes to pretend we’re still the “us” I thought would never end. But once I've had a taste of the too tempting woman she's become, a few minutes isn’t enough. The man I am today is used to getting what he wants, and I want her.The problem? She wants the guy I used to be.Ten years later, all that’s changed is… everything.

    . .If Charlotte Brooks thinks she and her TV makeover show can turn Reno Wilder’s hometown upside down, he’ll be happy to prove her wrong. The x-Marine has seen too much turmoil and he likes Sweet, Texas, just the way it is. Traditional. Familiar. A little dull. Everything Charli isn’t. But instead of backing off from his scowls like everyone else, Charli digs in her skyscraper heels.SHE’S TENACIOUS AND WICKEDLY TEMPTING . . .Reno Wilder is a one-man unwelcoming committee, but Charli isn’t budging. It’s clear the gorgeous cowboy needs an overhaul just as much as Sweet. Someone needs to break him out of that gruff shell and show him how fun and rewarding a little change can be.THEY’RE ABOUT TO FIND THAT LOVE IS ANYTHING BUT PREDICTABLE.

    Now I have to.In order to save my skin at the office, I'm forced to sell it at an exclusive and illegal blindfold club. He paid thousands of dollars for one night to own me, but when my blindfold comes off, I want more. More nights, more rules, and more from this unavailable and uncompromising man.Rule number one, no questions. Rule number two, no lies. But, rule number three? That's the hardest one to obey.

    Point is, she cost me my two best friends ten years ago. It’s payback time, and I’m going to make her life hell.When I’m not banging her silly and myself stupid.I need to get my head back in business, because getting off is great, but "He was a man who had sex, and lots of it, and in the worst locations, with the woman of his nightmares" isn’t the inscription I want on my tombstone.Even if it’s true.AmbrosiaThere are three things I hate:Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking loudly like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett.Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It’s been ten years since he took my virginity—I’d make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a bratbest joke, and yes, it kills me to admit it—and now he’s not only a billionaire, he’s also my new boss.Turns out our hate is mutual. And this kind of hate is horrifically twisted, filthy, and banging hot.I just might have to hate him forever.MISTER McHOTTIE is 45,000 gloriously hilarious, hot, sexy words that your mother warned you about, complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks, and no cheating or cliffhangers.

    and I'm sick of games. Sick of the Friday night bar-scene-cum-meat-market. Sick of the boy-girl, man-woman, mars-venus, flirtation-without-expectation, game-playing nonsense. Sick of awful dates and one-night stands, booty calls and guys who don’t call back, mixed messages or NO messages and—and—and...I'm sick of all of it. I’m done. I just can't do it anymore. It's too hard, and worse: little by little, it's making me hard. It's breaking my heart. What DO I want? That's easy. I want a house in suburbia with a white picket fence. I want babies to buckle into a minivan. But most of all, I want to be married. I want a husband. So I've made an important decision: I'm making my escape from the dating world and the single life. I've filled out my application on ArrangeMe.com and I'm putting my fate into the hands of experts. Is it a little scary? Sure. I mean, I have no idea who I'll end up with. After all, I'm planning to marry a complete stranger. But between you and me? I can't wait. Being arranged can't possibly be worse than being single. Can it?