What she doesn't have is a ring on her finger, and after being left at the altar, she's in no hurry. Besides, she has plenty of other issues to tackle, including her wayward father, a new rival at work, and an ever-shrinking amount of personal time. To keep sane, Waverly makes a habit of jotting down "Honey Notes," her own brand of self-deprecating wisdom and pipe-dream for a line of greeting cards. As Waverly stumbles back into the dating scene (no stalkers or jean shorts, please), her personal and professional lives threaten to collide. Perfect on Paper reminds readers that everyone has a bad date (or twelve), and that everyone needs a best friend to tell them, “Honey, you are not alone."

    She’s even got a literary agent dangling a book deal in front of her nose—but there’s a catch. She’ll have to get closure with “Guy” and give her story that pitch-perfect ending.Too bad the real “Guy” is engaged to someone else. #BlessedThe only person in her teeny hometown of Arbor Bay who knows the truth is local bartender Brady Knox. And he’s not telling...for a price. He’ll pretend to be Sloane’s “Guy” if she’ll use her newfound Internet fame to bring more business to his struggling local bar. Brady’s always been a lone wolf, but there’s something about the pint-sized, supremely awkward, yet beautiful Sloane that charms him.But keeping secrets in a small town like Arbor Bay isn’t easy. And Brady was never meant to be the guy for a pitch-perfect ending...

    I didn’t know he was back from Kuwait. When I came home from my position as an overseas correspondent, I’d expected I’d never see him again. And that was the way I’d wanted things to be. After all, I couldn’t let him know about my daughter. Our daughter. I couldn’t help my feelings for him, though. I’d always been drawn to him. But he had never wanted children. I had to respect that. But he wasn’t the same man I’d met in Kuwait, and I wasn’t the same woman either. I knew sooner or later he would find out my secret and sh*t would hit the fan.

    If I took time to explain, Declan Moss would get hit by a bus.Let me back up. I didn’t ask for this. I was perfectly happy—and perfectly sane—before I was tasked with keeping Declan Moss alive. It was a thankless job until the moment that my panties dropped and his delicious smirk found his way in between my thighs.Hello, toe-curling ecstasy. Goodbye, professional boundaries. And suddenly, there’s a new danger to avoid: the falling of my heart.