Lola Penelope Caruso is my favorite person to torment. When she’s had enough of me, her freckled cheeks go rosy, her tiny hands ball into fists, and she pulls at her signature tight braid and lets down her long red hair. I thought I'd seen her at her worst when we told her she’d have to move from New York City to a dump in Jersey with our law firm. But then a six-year-old showed up at my office with a note around his neck and my smile on his face, and she had to ask: Who's your daddy?

A forbidden romance with my brother’s hockey teammate wasn’t on my to-do list when I moved across the country… Neither was getting locked out of a friend’s place wearing next to nothing. Or spending the night with the sexy stranger who rescues me. But I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone so getting out of the rest of my clothes with him seems like a good way to start. In the morning, I learn the filthy-mouthed man with the talented hands is not only the hotshot new hockey player on my brother’s team: he’s also–wait for it–my brand new roommate.

Lennox Kennedy is beautiful, loud, and the love of my life. She's also my ex-girlfriend. The first time I saw her after ten years apart, I slammed into the plexiglass minutes before our game was set to begin. The second time I threw up. The third time's a charm apparently because as my fiancée and I walked into an appointment to meet the woman hired to plan our nuptials—there she was again. Obviously, I did what any smart man would do—I called off the wedding. I don't have a plan per se, other than winning back the only girl I've ever loved.

Beckett Langfield is grumpy, rich and hates kids. I’m an overworked, overstressed, and overweight single mom. The only reason we’re getting married is because he needs to fix a PR disaster and I am available. As in sitting next to him, in a bar, when he has this brilliant idea. Considering I just got divorced, I’m not looking to do that again. But Beckett makes me an offer that I literally can’t refuse, so I don’t.

I made a deal with my brother a long time ago to never date his teammates. Technically, Rowan Landry, the hot as hell center for the Chicago Falcons, is no longer my brother’s teammate. Or his best friend. Their college days are long behind them, and they barely talk now. Also, I’m not dating him—we’re just sleeping together. There’s a difference.