Fire at Will

Be careful what you write on a Taco Bell napkin in high school. Committing to a marriage pact beside a Mild sauce stain normally isn't contractually binding. Unless, of course, your signature winds up next to the signature of a future billionaire CEO, who is 100% serious, 100% certifiably grumpy, and 100% the kind of person to make 30-day Valentine activities at his fancy office building mandatory.

My brother's best friend is in love with me. Or so he says. Fortunately, even with only 15% of workable eyesight, I can see right through his irritating charms. He may have fooled our coworkers, family, and friends with his nonsense, but he can't fool me. Unfortunately, when our CEO condones the organization of a thirty-day mandatory Valentine event, I'm stuck with William Ivan Delimar Hart—a man who bedazzles walkie-talkies and calls our boss "twinsie."

I've spent my life battling to manage my parents' impossible expectations and trying to catch the eye of Brian Single, a man whose head only turns for mail. Bemoaning my humanity shouldn't really be at the top of my priorities after I've just moved out of my parents' house and in with the mailman himself, but—haha—it is.

My best friend's brother is a big, grumpy jerk. Now that Roman's sister—and my very favorite person on earth—is getting married, I'm being thrown into wedding planning with the fun-hating grouch. As if I don't see him enough at work, where he's my boss, or at home, where he's my landlord and roommate. I can't escape him, and, for some reason, he doesn't seem to want to escape me. It's almost as if under that prickly exterior, he actually likes our grumpy-sunshine dynamic. Wild. Can't relate. He's salty, I'm sweet, and this wedding? It's going to be perfect.