What does the most notorious playboy on the Minnesota Caribou professional hockey team do when everything blows up in his face? Right, I've sworn off women because my multi-million-dollar NHL contract is on the line. If I lose my dream because of my own screw-ups, I might never recover. I've never known a goal I couldn't score—or a girl I couldn't score with. Until she tumbles from a ladder and straight into my arms. Sue-Ann Johnson is lush, smart, more determined than I am, and one hundred percent taboo. For the first time in my life, I want someone who's not a sure bet. 

I've never been in love. I've never had an orgasm, but I've faked plenty. I want to experience love. Real, passionate love. I don't want to die. It's funny what blurts out of your mouth when the plane you're on is going down, and I didn't hold back with my seat mate when my plane decided to crash. My hysterical confessions didn't faze the muscular stranger that sat beside me. In fact, he promised if we survived, he'd give me my first orgasm.

I knocked up my best friend's sister. Let's start with how she decided to inform me and Pacey the news...together. Imagine that nightmare. I was going into what I thought was a hockey marketing meeting, and then bam! I'm going to be a dad and my best friend/teammate is attempting to imprint my face with his fist. Threats were tossed around, friendships were revoked, and then I was marched up to her apartment, suitcases in hand, and forced to live with her so I could take care of her every need. Now I'm finding it harder and harder not to fall for my best friend's little sister.

CEO millionaire Max Fletcher is a single dad in desperate need of a nanny. Cozy Barlow is in the middle of her self-appointed “gap year” and doing everything she can to detach from her past. But when her sister begs her to interview for the nanny position of a high-maintenance client, she doesn’t have a good enough reason to say no. And when Max locks eyes on the 20-something in a tie-dye sweat suit who pitches the idea of daydreaming all summer—he prepares to give this bad nanny the boot.

After I’m arrested for throwing a raucous party, my hockey team says I have an image problem. And I need to fix it, stat. Charity work? Check. Haircut? Sure. But I draw the line at hiring my neighbor to style me. In the first place “style” shouldn’t be a verb. And I’m tired of people who’d judge me on appearances. Vera and I don’t see eye to eye on anything. She wants me to try on clothes, while I just want to remove hers. She's distractingly pretty, with soulful eyes and a sinful mouth that likes to argue with me.

Lucky. The one adjective used to describe my entire hockey career. I prefer to call it hard work - at least I did until my game went to complete crap. I haven’t scored in eight games, and the team owner is talking about trading me. I’ve never believed in superstitions. Never needed one. I suppose I was “lucky” in that way. But now the best way to refer to me is desperate. I’d wear the same socks for an entire year just to be the high-scoring center I used to be. Imagine my surprise when after spending New Year’s Eve with a woman, I score a hat trick in the next game.

Am I friends with JP Cane? Ha! That's laughable. Besides the fact that he’s adopted some far-fetched notion from the movie When Harry Met Sally that says men and women can't be friends and work together, it’s safe to say we're not friends. He's annoyingly loud, obnoxiously handsome, and has made an art out of poking all my hot buttons...multiple times a day. So you can imagine how disgruntled I am when I not only have to fly to San Francisco with him for work, but stay in the same penthouse. Yup, we're sharing the same air, 24-7. We're talking full-fledged working roommates.

I've been dreading this for a year. Okay, that's a lie. I've been dreading this reunion since we graduated high school 10 years ago. So why am I here, standing outside the door like the eternal wallflower I am? I'd say it's because my younger sister browbeat me into it, but the truth is, I'm tired of being a nobody. Of never taking a risk with myself and my life. And...well...maybe I'm also hoping to see him. The tall, insanely gorgeous man walking my way now. Oliver Fritz is regarded as one of Boston's sexiest doctors. I know him as the former god of our school.

Dante Marino’s the definition of beautiful destruction. Everything he touched, he destroyed...including me. We were friends. Then we weren't. He used me. Played me. Took every ounce of my affection and threw it away. He became my enemy, then risked everything to save me. Now, he wants me back, claiming he's changed - determined to make me his. Each vow, every possessive kiss, feels like he’s mine. But I can't forget that underneath his rock-hard body, seductive grin, and wicked promises, one thing will always remain true - he's my undoing.

Call it superstition, but when a guy bats as hot as Brooks Elliott, you don’t mess with what’s working. And what’s working is him keeping his pants zipped and doing all of his scoring on the field. So when I hear he’s planning to ditch his V-card now that he’s been traded to baseball’s lovable losers - a.k.a. my home team and my reason for living every March through October - I do what any rational, dedicated, obsessed fan would do. I make a plan to stop him. But the thing about stopping him is that it requires spending time with him. Lots. And lots. And lots of time.

After achieving the goals I set for myself, I walked away from my professional hockey career. It was a tough decision, but the right one at the time. When the Titans organization approached me about joining the team they were rebuilding following a devastating plane crash, I felt a passion for the game and a competitive spirit I hadn’t felt in years. The opportunity to make a huge difference to a lot of people spoke to me, and I accepted their offer and headed to Pittsburgh without a second thought. 

All my life I've said I will never date a hockey player. I know better because I've seen and lived it all. My father is a hockey god, my brother is the captain of the most successful NHL team in the world, and my brother-in-law also plays in the league. Their lives are complicated, so I went in the opposite direction. I fell in love with a scholar. But instead of proposing marriage, he broke up with me.

I was never supposed to see him again. Him being the man wearing the perfectly tailored suit, who oozed an intoxicating mixture of wealth, rebellion, and sex appeal. One night. No strings. No names. Still riding the high from last night, I walk in to meet my new client, and he’s wearing that same dangerous smirk. Yes, I’m consulting for Callahan Sharpe. That Callahan Sharpe. Billionaire heir who abides by no rules, bucks convention, and is determined to complete one final project to honor his late father’s legacy. Luckily, and unluckily for me, I’m tasked to help.

Growing up as the oldest Kingston sibling, I knew what was expected of me. King Corp. was my legacy, and my siblings were my responsibility. The world was ours for the taking. For the living. But I neglected to live it for myself...until her. Daphne Brenner wasn’t meant to be part of the deal. I never intended to acquire a new assistant with my new hockey team, but here she is. Constantly challenging me. Continually Intriguing me. Never backing down. Even if I’m the villain in her fairy tale. 

Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend. Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet. Target: Grady Rock. Master baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends. Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me.