Staci Hart

Chemistry is my love language. I've always been able to separate feelings from chemosignals. A shot of dopamine, a dash of serotonin, and a sprinkle of oxytocin—bam. You're in love. And when egg meets sperm, you're pregnant. I couldn't even be surprised as I stared down at the little blue plus sign, because I knew exactly when and how, and...

Never thought I'd agree to a marriage of convenience to my hot, firefighter ex-boyfriend. Especially after he casually informs me we've been married for ten years. Ten years ago, Wilder and I were so in love that we got married in Vegas for one night only before leaving for college on different sides of the world. He was supposed to...