White Collar Brothers

He's the sexy alpha male in the corner office who goes through assistants faster than free donuts in the break room. I'm the assistant who was chosen to cover for his last fire. The owner of the company is clear - hook the biggest client in our firm's history and there's a partnership for him and a promotion for me. Stipulation - we do it together. It doesn't take a tarot card-reading psychic to figure out where our story is headed...late nights, trips out of town, and more than a few awkward moments filled with sexual tension. No worries though. I pride myself on my willpower. I can totally ignore his sexy grin, his rock-hard body, and his dreamy brown eyes. I will not become the woman other women hate. But it turns out that Enzo Mancini has a lot of layer,s and if I don't stop peeling, I'm going to lose everything, including my dignity.

He's the arrogant Manhattan realtor with billboards advertising his six-pack more than his expertise in negotiations. I'm the competing broker who stupidly moved across the hall from his office. From day one, I've been his sworn enemy. Okay, so I might have accidentally stolen one of his clients. Well, is it stealing if the client comes to me? Even our vicious banter and loathing gazes can't hide the chemistry between us. Who can blame me? He has enough charisma to make every hot-blooded woman in the city melt with a single word. Just when I think a mutual respect could be born between us, the biggest developer in the city offers us an opportunity that pits us against each other. Time to forget Carmelo Mancini's dreamy eyes and tight abs. Game on.

It was never my plan to wake up in a Vegas hotel room as Dominic Mancini's wife. The man has brought me nothing but heartache since I was 16. At least we agree on one thing - a quickie annulment and we can both get on with our lives. I can go back to teaching little girls to dance, and he can go back to making millions in Wall Street. But sometimes, what happens in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas. It follows you right into an ambush by your Italian mamas who deliver Oscar-worthy performances when heaping on the guilt. So, we do what any good Italian kids would do. We secretly agree to pretend to give marriage a try. But our easy solution morphs into a convoluted mess and leaves us wondering - is it safe to bet on each other?