What I envisioned: Throwing myself a breakup party, a glittery fete at which I'd lift a glass and celebrate being free and single again. What I did: Drink too much champagne and blurt out to my best guy friend that I'd really like to get back on the horse. But what I truly don't expect is Carter's answer - he volunteers as tribute. With his sinful brown eyes and too-good-to-be-true body it'd be no hardship for me to say yes, though I certainly don't want him to feel obligated to, um, service me, just because my failed, loveless marriage was a s-e-x desert. But since the charming and confident pro football star owes five public dates to his dating app sponsor, we make a deal to help each other out. Pretty soon, our public how to date lessons turn into, ahem, very private ones. And I'm a star student, graduating quickly from flirty banter and lingering looks to toe-curling, sheet-grabbing, mind-blowing hours of physical education. The problem? Turns out learning to date again feels a lot like the real ...