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.

Ever hear the story about the bodyguard who falls for the rock star? Yeah, it never ends well. Each day I remind myself that it's my job to protect Stone. And nowhere in the job description does it say I should lust after the charismatic, charming man. Especially since we're opposites. But every night I spend with him the dangerous, off-limits attraction grows more intense. Until one night in a limo when we combust.

I have to stop replaying the one night I spent with my rival. Trouble is, that white-hot encounter with the other quarterback answered a lot of questions I’ve had about myself, but it also led me into this mess where he hates me. I never showed up for our second date. Since, well, life happened, and the worst part is he’ll never know how much that night meant to me.

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.

Every bartender should follow one simple rule—don't go home with the customers. That’s been easy for me to stick to, until the night a cocky, confident, and sinfully charming hockey star walks into my bar. This sexy athlete is too hard to resist, especially when he makes it clear how much he wants the “sarcastic, witty, hot AF” guy behind the bar—also known as me.

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Friends don't bang friends. I want my friends to stay in my life, especially that flirty, clever, outgoing best friend of mine. It's a darn good thing Owen and I made a pact in college to never ever sleep together, or else I'd be tempted. Trouble is, eight years later, I've been wondering what his kisses taste like. And I've been curious if our chemistry would extend into the bedroom. If he might feel the same risky pull. But I don't want to lose Owen.

Egon Wolf is on a hockey scholarship but failing at everything else. Knowing he's going to lose his ride if he doesn't get his academic act together, he seeks out a tutor. Rakesh Aahnu is a dual major and dangerous when bored. What he enjoys more than anything is the challenge of making straight men fall for him before walking away. Just because he can. Both Egon and Rakesh are about to discover that life has a way of throwing you in the sin bin when you least expect it.

I’m a man with too many secrets, so the last thing I need is a new roommate with a sexy smile and blue eyes that see right through me. Eight years ago, Roderick left town after high school. We’re not friends. I owe him nothing. But back then, I let one of my secrets slip, and he’s the only one who noticed. Part of me knows I should run far, far away. But the other part wants him to come upstairs and spend the night. But if I let him in, I could lose everything.

Look, when I met the sexy, witty Brit on the streets of London last night, I had no idea who he was. He was just that hot guy I wanted to have a drink with, so I asked him out for my first evening in town. One thing almost led to another. After a midnight kiss, we made plans for a whole lot more the next day. But when I unlock the door to my rental in the morning, the English hottie is lounging on the couch like he lives here too. Great. For the next year, I’ll be sharing a tiny flat with the sexiest guy I’ve ever known.

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.

Charles Preston Carmichael is the most infuriating man I've ever met. I want to sock the golden boy of college hockey right in the mouth. He enjoys telling me everything I'm messing up—publicly. And since he's my roommate for the next year, I can't avoid him. Yet there's something about him that makes me watch him. Something dark. A secret I want to uncover. When he returns from a weekend away, broken and haunted, I can't keep my distance anymore. He needs someone, and I'll be damned if it's not me.

I couldn’t tell you when I fell in love with Gael Herrera, but I wish I knew how to make it stop. Falling in love with a straight man is a rookie mistake. But falling in love with my soon-to-be-married-to-a-woman best friend is nothing but heartache. Through all the years, and all the men I’ve fooled around with, he’s always been at the back of my mind. An unrequited crush I wish I could shake. A dream that was never going to come true. When I whisk him off to a surprise bachelor party weekend in Vegas, I surrender to the idea that this is an opportunity for me to finally let go.

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.

Moms are good at one thing: the guilt trip. It’s the only reason I’m at the funeral of a man I’ve never had anything to do with. I’ll show up, make her happy, and get out. At least that’s what I think until I learn daddy dearest has left me a crap load of money and the obligation to learn about the family business. All from his eldest son who looks nothing like the rest of us.

I’m never one to turn down a bet. Especially not when it comes to retaliating against the dean for pulling a dick move before summer break. So when the dean’s golden child arrives at Astor for his freshman year, my fellow troublemakers throw down a wager I can’t resist. The target: the dean’s son, John Thomas Hawthorne, or “JT”. The bet: corruption in any way I choose. It should’ve been easy. With his mess of brown curls, pouty lips, and good-boy reputation, JT is the perfect revenge. And even better? He’s straight.