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Billionaire. CEO. Single dad. And, apparently, my date to Manhattan's most exclusive ball. I thought my invitation was a birthday present from my best friend. The dress, the limousine, the red carpet . . . I thought they were meant for me. That was mistake number one. Then my date arrives, all gleaming cufflinks and tousled hair, steely blue eyes, and a body honed to masculine precision. Arrogant. Charming. Panty-melting. And melt, they do. Hanky-panky with a rich hottie in the back room of the event I'm crashing? Don't mind if I do. Listen, don't judge me. It's my birthday, remember? Nothing that happens tonight counts in real life. Ha. Right. That's mistake number two. Because the next morning, I start my new job as the nanny for a high-profile client. And my new boss, the owner of this swanky Manhattan penthouse, and the father of these two adorable hellions? Yup. Mr. Hanky-Panky. But the biggest mistake of all? Staying with him. Working for him. Letting my guard down, falling for him . . . And crashing. Splat. Oh-then I find out I'm pregnant. Contains mature themes.