Sasha Rubinstein is not on her game. Parenting with an absent (and objectively douchey) ex has never been easy, but, lately, the judgmental side-eye from people at school pick-up feels extra. It doesn’t help that some entitled dad—with his perfect t-shirts and perfectly punchable (yet adorable) face—keeps stealing the last after-school spots and school hoodies out from under her.

Gigi Graham has exactly three goals: qualify for the women's national hockey team, win Olympic gold, and step out of her famous father's shadow. So far, so good, except for two little things. Fine—a little thing and a big, grumpy thing. She needs to improve her game behind the net, and she needs help from Luke Ryder. Ryder is six-foot five, built, opinionated, rude . . . and sexy as hell. But he's still the enemy.

My best friend’s brother was totally off limits. But he lived right next door. And so when a date ended badly, I found myself at his house after midnight ranting about it. “Is it too much to ask for a guy to kiss me when I clearly want him too?” Out of nowhere, he had me pressed against the wall. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight. My self-control goes out the window after midnight. And when a beautiful girl comes into my house whining that she didn’t get a proper kiss, I feel obligated to rectify that.”

I’ve got a list of people I absolutely don’t ever want to be stuck with on a boat, or a plane, or a train, and it starts and ends with the broody, grumpy, too-sexy-for-my-own good Axel Huxley. Also known as this romance novelist’s number one nemesis. The man is legendary for his mighty pen and his even mightier scowl. I tried to work together with the cocky thriller writer once upon a time, but the two of us are like vodka and good decisions. We don’t play well together.

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.