It’s hard enough balancing two jobs with raising my son solo. Forget dating. I barely have time for laundry. But when my son’s scouting troop The Falcons needed a co-scout leader, I couldn’t say no. There’s just one ginormous problem: the other scout leader Russ. To all other parents, he’s #DadGoals, Mr. Sexy Widower who lords over the drop off line. To me? He’s the bane of my picket-fenced existence - stuck up, anal (not in the fun way), and definitely the person who got me booted from the Parent Teacher Association.

What’s a straight guy to do when he accidentally goes on a date with his brand new gym-bro? Offer to be the best wingman ever, of course! It’s foolproof. Joey needs a man? I’ll find him one. He wants someone who looks, well, kind of like me? No problem! Not into watersports? I’ve got him covered. The issue is, going on all these dates with Joey makes me realize I want more of his time to be spent with me. I like the guy. And his smile. And the way he makes me feel like anything is possible.

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.

My path to success never included an enemy as a teammate, especially one as infuriating as Quinton de Haas. Clawing under my skin is his favorite pastime, only feeding the animosity between us as the years pass. We’re as completely opposite as two people can be; the golden boy and the black sheep. Constantly at odds or at each other’s throats. The only thing we can agree on is hockey is our true love, and we’ll do whatever it takes to come out on top. I never imagined that drive would lead me to do the unthinkable: falling into bed with my not-so-straight rival.

Being a lifelong Chicago Thunder fan, I know that Blaine Olsen is trouble. Because all hockey players are. He's a notorious playboy, and I refuse to be another notch on his bedpost. But when he shows me the part of himself he keeps hidden, it gets harder to resist him.

Carter Morgan III hates everything about South Carolina University except for one thing: hockey. As the starting netminder for the team, he lives for those moments when he can step onto the ice and between the pipes. Unfortunately, his time at school and on the team is slowly coming to an end. Although he'd love nothing more than to pursue a career in the NHL, he knows better than to get his hopes up.

As a high school hockey star, I was on track for greatness. Until an opponent attacked me on the ice, leaving me half blind. For the past twenty-seven years, I’ve avoided hockey and its painful memories. But when my old teammates get back together to play in a local recreational league, I realize it could be a chance to rewrite history. The only person standing in my way is Jack Gross.

My name is Hudson Newgate, but my teammates call me "New Guy". That was my nickname in Chicago, too. And Vancouver. That’s what happens when you keep getting traded. Brooklyn is my last chance, especially after my poor performance last season.

"Everything you’d ever want a rom com to be.” —Hannah Grace, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Icebreaker Catching flights . . . and feelings. Asher Bennett thought his relationship was just fine. Until he’s unceremoniously dumped at the Boston airport ahead of The Epic Trek, the...

Proposing to my first boyfriend at a hockey game wasn’t my smartest move. Not only does said boyfriend walk out on me, but the whole stupid thing goes viral, and it turns out the man I was dating has too many boyfriends to count. Internet fame has crowned me a member of the Jilted Exes’ Club, a name I’d do anything to escape. One thing’s for sure: I’m not making the same mistake again. No more boyfriends, just easy hookups. And I’ll start with this gorgeous catch in Seattle. The only problem…he’s a god in bed, and I’m an inexperienced mess.

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...

The thing about guys is that we communicate on a physical, primal level. A hearty slap on the backside just means “good game, bro”. Some good old fashioned roughhousing just means we’re comfortable with each other. Some late night stress relief? Just dudes being dudes… Right? We’re just friends. Just roommates. Just a couple of guys doing what guys do. So what if I can’t stop thinking about kissing him? Is there a way I can “no homo” my way out of this? If I'm really honest with myself, I don't think I even want to. So… maybe YES, homo?

It was never meant to be more than a dare: A party game. A dare. A single kiss. That’s all it took to flip my world upside down. I’ve always classified myself as straight, and as far as I can tell, so has he. I didn’t think one kiss would change that, but I was so wrong. Now, I can’t stop thinking about him. My best friend. Aspen. His taste is branded in my memory, his touch seared in my skin. And I want more. Which is why I start tossing out new dares. Riskier ones that toe lines we never thought we’d cross. But there’s so much more at stake here. Like my heart.

After the derailment of his hockey dreams and a nasty breakup with his girlfriend, he's ready to put his head down and work hard for the South Carolina NHL team. He doesn't count on Troy Nichols, though. Troy, the star forward for the team, is unexpected in more ways than one. When sparks fly between the pair, there seems little sense in holding back. Can they make it work, or is this little more than a rebound?

There’s a lot I’ve never told my best friend. The fact that I love him. That I miss him every day he’s gone. That, sometimes, I ache for him with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. Lucky Buchanan tore into my life as a boy, wild and daring, my opposite in every way. He drew me in, stole my heart without trying. He hears me, even though I rarely speak a word. But I always knew this place wouldn’t be enough for my free-spirited friend. I knew he wasn’t mine to keep.