When it comes to hockey, I'm all about the game. I've worked for years to be one of the best in the league, and l've done it without splashing my orientation all over the tabloids. My hockey image is one I've carefully cultivated, and after one night with Ezra Palaszczuk, I risk it all. He's cocky, obnoxious, and has an ego bigger than Massachusetts. And okay, maybe he's the sexiest man I've ever known. We'll never get along. Not when we sleep together. Not even when my possessive streak awakens. That doesn't stop us from falling into bed together over and over again.

Harley: What happens when the most successful boy band on the planet breaks up? How about 20,000 fans screaming my name. But the price of fame comes with an increased risk to my safety. I've been avoiding the dreaded B word for as long as I can, but after a close call with a rambunctious fan, I can't do it anymore. It's time to give in. I need to hire a full-time bodyguard. And when he shows up, he not only screams badass, he's another B word I try to stay away from: boyfriend material.

As social chair of Sigma Beta Psi, I’m the life of the party. It’s what I’m known for, and if it’s not fun, I’m not interested, simple as that. I’m not someone who overthinks. So, when one of my brothers hooks up with a dude from another frat house, it catches me off guard when I can’t stop thinking about them…together. There’s only one way for me to get this obsession out of my head, and that’s by jumping in with both feet and putting it into practice.

"Look out for Zach, and don't hit on him." My brother's request sounds easy enough. Keep an eye out for his best friend on campus and keep my hands to myself. Easy. Even if Zach is a quintessential nerd, who I've always thought was cute, I don't have the time to think with my...stick. There's only one stick I should be focused on this year, and that's my hockey stick. My goal once I graduate is to get an NHL contract. The last thing I need is a distraction. On or off the ice. Only, keeping to the rules is harder than I thought it would be. 

I never intended to become a stripper. Two years ago, I was in Nashville chasing the songwriter dream. Sleepless nights between day jobs were spent writing rock ballads and trying to make a name for myself. That all changed with one phone call that forced me to return to Atlanta. Needing consistent income to pay the mountain of debt I'd come home to, I traded stripping my soul for stripping my clothes. Then Archer West comes crashing into my VIP room, tempting me to break all of my rules.

Nick Johnson, a top prospect for a pro hockey team, has a secret: He’s gay. Tired of living in the closet for the sport he loves, he sees no way out. Jacob Meyer’s string of bad boyfriends left him cynical about love. Instead, he focuses on his studies as a third-year law student. With a new job waiting for him, he’s eager to graduate and move on. On a school-sponsored trip, Nick and Jacob meet in a most unexpected way. When Nick tells Jacob his secret, they decide to hang out, just as friends. But their attraction is too strong to ignore, and they soon begin dating.

Renowned cardiologist Carter Rogers is used to having things under control. His life, his prestigious reputation, his career, his future.

I spent college worrying about responsibilities and earning my teaching degree, so before graduation and moving to Atlanta with my best friend, Ross, I figure I deserve a little fun. I’ve never been with an older man, but the guy at the bar grabs my attention and doesn’t let go…for multiple rounds, all night long. The next day, when Ross introduces me to his dad, the last thing I expect is for him to be my hookup from the night before, in town from Atlanta for his son’s graduation. The best thing would be to pretend it never happened, which is easier said than done.

Kind, caring, and protective. Those are the three qualities I’m looking for when it comes to my dream man. In a city as big as Chicago, you wouldn’t think he would be that hard to find, right? Wrong. Sure, my boss found a super-sexy detective and my best friend fell madly in love with the most eligible bachelor around. But the only person I’ve met recently is a broody bad boy who saved me at a sketchy pub. He’s grumpy, rude, and honestly, not that likeable at all. Hardly my “dream” guy. So why can’t I stop thinking about him?

In my defense, I was left alone with a bottle of single-malt and a lifelong penchant for protecting my baby sister. Still, that's no excuse to send 10 drunk-texts on why her hasty marriage would be a mistake. If only I had just texted my sister. But nope. I accidentally sent the message to her, her groom, and his super hot wingman. I also used the phrase “super hot wingman”, so I’d like to die now.

The job at Sunday Orchard was supposed to be temporary. A chance to gain some work experience, to have some fun. I had not expected to be welcomed into a family of gorgeous and weirdly efficient lumberjack-types, or to find purpose in the tiny Vermont town whose claim to fame seemed to be apple-based products and copious amounts of charm. And I most definitely hadn’t expected to fall for Knox Sunday, my grumpy, burly, fifteen-years-older, reluctant roommate, with his infuriating lectures, his hot-as-fire body, his superior attitude - I’ve never been one to put down roots. 

Milo. Unusual. Quirky. Different. I’ve heard it all. I’ve accepted I’m not for everyone. When I find out I inherited a bookstore and apartment on a small East Coast island, I jump at the chance for a new life. Turns out I’ve also inherited a sexy, tattooed guy who not only rents the space next to my store but my apartment too. Gideon. I wasn’t looking for a roommate, but it’s not like I can stay at Milo’s place while he’s banished to a hotel. According to Milo, we’re bestie goals. And if he doesn’t wear pants at home, who am I to complain?

Payne. In search of: Room to rent. Must ignore the patheticness of a 40-year-old roommate. Preferably dirt cheap as funds are tight (nonexistent). There’s nothing sadder than moving back to my hometown newly divorced, homeless, and lost for what my next move is. When my little brother’s best friend offers me a place to stay in exchange for menial duties, I swallow my pride and jump at the offer. I need this. I also need Beau to wear a shirt. And ditch the gray sweatpants. And not leave his door ajar when he’s in compromising positions...

It started out as a little fun. When there was a man in my building on a hookup app, why not message him? Only we didn’t meet. We just texted - one night after the other, after the other. GoodWithHisHands was the perfect escape from my life, where pressure was always on my shoulders: my father’s expectations, the worry about my sister, Maddy, getting sick again, and her ex-husband, Ryder Lynwood, suddenly back and volunteering at the same hospital as me. I like talking to him, the same way I enjoy chatting with GoodWithHisHands. They weren’t supposed to be the same person. 

I swore I wouldn’t do this again. Mix sports, school, and sex. But right now the only thing standing between me and the NHL is six feet of frenemy packed into a pair of form-fitting jeans that have me thinking all kinds of things I shouldn’t. I don’t just want Kolby. I need him. Because I’ve got to pass this theater class—yeah, I said theater—if I’m going to keep my spot on the team. When tutoring sessions turn into dates-not-dates over Shipley Cider at Vino and Veritas, I realize it’s going to be harder than I thought to keep my hands on my stick and off of Kolby.