Tales you win. Heads you lose. And the fighters of Tales never lose. The men my father ruled were his faithful soldiers sworn to protect the club, him, me. Until one day, his most loyal soldier, Beast, makes a decision that changes my story forever. But this is no fairy tale and I don't own a crown. This is real life. Bloody, violent, and filled with alpha men who use their fists to settle every dispute. And if the man who calls me Princess thinks he can break my heart and get away with it, he can think again.

For Louisa, the Christmas period has never been full of joy and cheer, unless you counted a drunk mother and her trail of deadbeat boyfriends. So when she gets the opportunity to become a chalet girl in the resort of Alpe d'Huez in the French Alps she jumps at the chance. Only she gets more than she bargained for when her assigned family turn out to be three hot bachelor brothers with a penchant for partying and women. When Louisa is asked to join the brothers on a trip to a remote log cabin high up in the mountains, she has no choice but to go or risk losing her job. 

Dance is in my blood. It’s what keeps me sane, out of trouble. It used to keep them out of trouble, too - a group of boys I grew up with. Xeno, York, Zayn, and Dax. We were a crew once. and we ruled the clubs. Separately we were insanely good; together we were unbeatable. F--king on fire. I was their girl, and they were my breakers. Until they did something they promised they never would: broke my heart.

He was the talented bad boy everyone wanted. I was the irrelevant geek everyone hated. He was the sun...drawing all of us in. I was a black hole...taking up space. He was destined to be a star. I was destined to remain an insignificant no one. Until he made me believe I was special...and then he destroyed me. I never thought I'd see Phoenix Walker again after he broke my heart, but fate had other plans. One tour. Eight weeks. Forty shows. Countless opportunities to make him pay. The world thought he was a god...but I know the truth.

He won’t tell me his last name, and maybe that should throw up a thousand red flags, but when I’m all alone in a new city and struggling to make ends meet, his texts are the lifeline I’ve been desperate for. I never would have answered that text if I’d known that Lincoln Daniels—superstar hockey player extraordinaire—was the one sending it. He’s trying to sweep me off my feet now. He says he’s obsessed. He wants me to wear his number…permanently. But is he still the wrong number, or can this hockey god prove he’s Mr. Right?