Three great friends. Three chances to learn how to date again.
Three standalone romantic comedies full of love, sex and meet-cute shenanigans.
MY SO-CALLED SEX LIFE
(How To Date Book 1)
I’ve got a list of people I absolutely don’t ever want to be stuck with on a boat, or a plane, or a train, and it starts and ends with the broody, grumpy, too-sexy-for-my-own good Axel Huxley.
Also known as this romance novelist’s number one nemesis.
The man is legendary for his mighty pen and his even mightier scowl. I tried to work together with the cocky thriller writer once upon a time, but the two of us are like vodka and good decisions. We don’t play well together.
Only now, our publishers are sending us on a joint trip across Europe to mingle with our most devoted readers on an old-fashioned luxury train. And thanks to a booking snafu, we have to share a sleeper car.
You guessed it–there’s only one bed.
I’m not sure I can survive the next seven days and nights with my dangerously sexy enemy and all our fiery tension.
Which explodes one night in a desperately needed hate bang.
But the bigger plot twist is this – the more time we spend together, visiting the most romantic cities in Europe by day and discovering each other at night, the more I’m forced to face our past.
To let go of the hurt.
To see the man he’s become.
And when I do, I wonder if it’s too late to write a new happy ending for us?
PLAYS WELL WITH OTHERS
(How To Date Book 2)
What I envisioned: Throwing myself a breakup party, a glittery fete at which I’d lift a glass and celebrate being free and single again.
What I did: Drink too much champagne and blurt out to my best guy friend that I’d really like to get back on the horse.
But what I truly don’t expect is Carter’s answer – he volunteers as tribute.
I should say no, right?
We’ve been “just friends” forever, and even though with his sinful brown eyes and too-good-to-be-true body it’d be no hardship for me to say yes, I certainly don’t want him to feel obligated to, um, service me, just because my failed, loveless marriage was a s-e-x desert.
But when the outgoing, charming, confident pro football star insists on giving me dating lessons, I find myself saying yes.
Pretty soon I’m a star student, graduating quickly from flirty banter and lingering looks to toe-curling, sheet-grabbing, mind-blowing hours of physical education.
The problem? Turns out learning to date again feels a lot like the real thing. Can our friendship withstand all these late-night bedroom sessions?
What will they do to my heart now that I’m suddenly longing for my best friend?