Aryn Murphy loves her family and friends, sports, and teaching school. What she doesn’t love is all the wrong attention she receives from men who don’t know the first thing about her.

When her childhood friend Wesley moves to town and lands a job working at the same school where she teaches, she has the perfect idea – he can be the decoy that keeps all the men away while she focuses on her otherwise perfect life. After all, Wesley has always been someone she’s felt safe with.

Wesley Baker harbored a secret crush on Aryn in high school, and when he arrives at his new job to find Aryn there too, that crush comes raging back. Now she wants him to play the part of doting boyfriend by night, and forgotten coworker by day.

But he had enough of playing pretend all those years ago. This time, he’s looking to play a different game – one with high stakes, and the potential to make them both winners.

Back To Class is a kissing only, sweet and clean romcom, with all the swoon but no explicit content.



She’s the desperate CEO hired to rebrand a sleepy Southern orchard. He’s the stubborn heir determined to see her fail.

All’s fair in love and farming.

As CEO of my marketing firm, my friends’ careers rest on my shoulders. And my shoulders—and company—are failing. Rebranding a famous farm is my final chance to fix what I’ve broken, and nothing can get in my way.

But flirting with a gorgeous farm worker can’t hurt. Right?

We have an instant—and hot—connection…until he tries to sabotage my every move. Turns out, this hunky local is actually Tag Carville III, the wealthy new heir to Sugar Maple Farms. When he finds out why I’m really visiting his sleepy Southern town, he goes from ally to enemy so fast, it takes my breath away.

My new nemesis clearly has his own agenda, and it’s in direct opposition to mine. I will save this farm and my company, even if he seems determined to stop me. Even if our fighting feels more and more like flirting.

Even if I’m starting to fall.

But in the battle over heart and home, only one of us will win.



The two of us have been best friends forever. But one of us is faking it.

Gabe and I are the dynamic duo of Hunter’s Creek, the small town in Washington where we live. As best friends, our bond is as tight as a bungee cord. But even though he’s loyal, sweet, and totally hot in that flannel-wearing lumberjack way of his, he’s always stayed securely in the “friend zone”—despite the fact I was head-over-heals in love with him in high school.

Just as I’m complaining that nothing ever happens here, Hollywood comes to town bringing its over-the-top movie madness energy. Along for the ride is Hollywood hottie Joe Turner who turns my head in a big way.

Gabe does not seem pleased.

Do you know what really gets under my skin? No good, full-of-themselves Hollywood guys named Joe Turner who hit on my best friend. Doesn’t Ryn know that she deserves so much better than that guy? He’ll use her up and spit her out when he leaves town.

Yet, no matter what I say, she goes for him anyway. And I’m not happy about it.

Who am I kidding? I hate it.

What’s more, the Hunter’s Creek Ladies Committee, aka a bunch of women with nothing better to do, have been trying to matchmake Ryn and me forever. They seem to think that the simple fact we’re both single means we’re perfect for each other. Listen up, ladies: it takes more to fall in love than to think your best friend is the most beautiful, clever, kind-hearted, and funny woman you’ve ever met.

Wait. Could they be right?







JUly 6


Hi, I’m Dee, and I’m captain of the friend zone.

I didn’t ask for this dubious honor, but don’t worry, I like it this way. I’m happy not dating and just being “one of the guys” on my volleyball team.

Until my scary new boss informs me that my job—I’m a developer at a dating app (ironic, right?) that I coded from scratch, an app that is essentially my baby—is in jeopardy.

So I lie.

Tell him that I’m living proof the app works, because I’m engaged to a man I met on it.

And who do I name as my lucky (fake) fiancé?

My best friend: Noah Jackson.

Noah is my longtime confidant, teammate, and all around favorite person… and while he always says he’d do anything for me, this is surely overstepping the friendship boundary. Right?

Apparently not. To my surprise, Noah agrees to go along with my crazy story and be my fake fiancé. And what’s more, he makes it look convincing.

So convincing that I’m starting to wonder where the line is between friendship and “more”. And if it would really be so bad to cross that line and leave the friend zone for good…



I signed up to marry a stranger on reality TV. Turns out, the bride is someone I know. And I’m pretty sure she still hates me for what happened between us in high school…

I knew the terms: marry a stranger on the spot, handpicked by “experts” just for me.

But that’s not what’s happening.

My bride is no stranger. And she’s wearing a black dress reminiscent of the one she wore the last time we spoke … at prom.

Surely she’s gotten over what happened at prom by now.

Except … it only takes me about five minutes to realize she hasn’t. And now, I’m married to the one woman I did wrong in my life.

But she still trembles at my touch.

Either this is about to be the biggest mistake of my life, or the greatest second chance in history.

And all of America gets to watch it…



Let’s play a game: Two truths and a lie.
1. I am a self-help influencer who is a hot mess.
2. If I don’t get some quiet time between planning my sister’s wedding to finish my book, 
Happily Single, I’m in hot water with my publisher.
3. I’m blackmailing the hot grump next-door into letting me live with him until this book is done.

Okay, they’re all true, but what’s a desperate girl to do?

Then while cleaning out the house Asher (the above-mentioned hot grump) inherited from his grandpa, we discover a box of secrets his grandpa has been hiding for years. Not his grandpa’s secrets, oh no—but everyone else’s in The Palms Retirement Center. As everything from embezzlement to natural hair colors are revealed, Diamond Cove is suddenly on guard—including my Grandma Winnie.

It’s fine (wait, there’s the lie!), as long as no one figures out my secret, since I may be keeping the biggest one of all. Because here’s another truth: After meeting Asher, I’m wondering if I’m actually Happily Single after all.









You know it’s bad when you have to give up chocolate to pay the bills.

I’m flat broke and desperate, but the word can’t isn’t part of my vocabulary. I’m all too familiar with shoulda, coulda, woulda, however, you won’t hear me say cannot or any of its variations. No, siree.

I can do anything except for improve my finances. So it makes perfect sense that I, Louella Belle, would compete to become Mrs. Fix It, the new cohost, on the popular House and Landscape channel’s home improvement show, Mr. Fix It.
Too bad the limits of my handywoman skills involve duct tape and thumbtacks. 
Shh. No one needs to know that.

Onscreen, Mr. Fix It, aka Bo Boone, is a stud and our chemistry is as blazing as the southern sun. However, when the cameras stop rolling, he cools off quick. When I learn why, I want to patch up his heart. Don’t worry, I won’t use duct tape or thumbtacks.

My efforts are about as effective as me replacing a wax ring on a toilet, flushing everything down the drain unless Mr. Fix It can live up to his name, forgive me, and get over his past.






I’m fake dating a man I don’t even like.

When a tabloid breaks a false story that I’m in a relationship with my co-star, Dane Cutler, I’m positive my acting career is over before it’s even begun.

I’m Done. Finished.

But approval ratings skyrocket overnight, putting the rumors on the front page of every news outlet. Now I’m forced to make a deal with Hollywood’s most notorious bad boy and chain dater.

It’s either go along with the fake-dating charade or single-handedly bring down both our careers. No, big deal.

If only the lines between fake and real weren’t starting to blur, leaving my heart wondering if Dane’s just a really good actor or if he’s starting to fall for me too.

My efforts are about as effective as me replacing a wax ring on a toilet, flushing everything down the drain unless Mr. Fix It can live up to his name, forgive me, and get over his past.


KC McCormick Çiftçi