You Don't Know Jack

Meet April Davis. She's a yoga-loving, meditation-preaching influencer building The Calm Mom brand, one deep breath at a time. She's also a freshly divorced single mother of three whose life is a total train wreck disguised as a wellness account. When her carefully curated livestream goes spectacularly viral for all the wrong reasons (there's pee, there's screaming, there's definitely an unhinged fairy godmother rant), her career implodes faster than her toddler's potty training progress.Enter Jack Gibson, the suit-wearing, problem-solving, and annoyingly gorgeous workaholic. He's the Vice President of Influencer Strategy, and he doesn't do messy. He definitely doesn't do kids. And he absolutely, positively does not fall for his clients.When Jack trades his fancy LA high-rise for suburbia in Denver to fix April's PR disaster, he ends up living in her house, folding her laundry (badly), building frog habitats with her five-year-old, and realizing that her particular brand of beautiful disaster feels dangerously like the home he never knew he wanted.Now April's juggling a make-or-break interview, a toddler who only speaks in banana, an eight-year-old with questionable shoe choices, and a man who looks way too good holding a laundry basket. Jack knows he should keep this professional. He knows she's not ready. He knows walking away is the smart move.Too bad nobody asked his heart.

Meet April Davis. She's a yoga-loving, meditation-preaching influencer building The Calm Mom brand, one deep breath at a time. She's also a freshly divorced single mother of three whose life is a total train wreck disguised as a wellness account. When her carefully curated livestream goes spectacularly viral for all the wrong reasons (there's pee, there's screaming, there's definitely an unhinged fairy godmother rant), her career implodes faster than her toddler's potty training progress.Enter Jack Gibson, the suit-wearing, problem-solving, and annoyingly gorgeous workaholic. He's the Vice President of Influencer Strategy, and he doesn't do messy. He definitely doesn't do kids. And he absolutely, positively does not fall for his clients.When Jack trades his fancy LA high-rise for suburbia in Denver to fix April's PR disaster, he ends up living in her house, folding her laundry (badly), building frog habitats with her five-year-old, and realizing that her particular brand of beautiful disaster feels dangerously like the home he never knew he wanted.Now April's juggling a make-or-break interview, a toddler who only speaks in banana, an eight-year-old with questionable shoe choices, and a man who looks way too good holding a laundry basket. Jack knows he should keep this professional. He knows she's not ready. He knows walking away is the smart move.Too bad nobody asked his heart.