Hockey is my life. It's my only goal, my only escape. Everything was going according to plan. All I had to do was focus on the game, keep my head down, then get drafted into the NHL. Starting the year as the captain of FU should have made that easy, but now my attention is torn between the ice and taunting my rival's little sister, Madeline Peters. My only real solace is the mystery girl inside my phone who refuses to tell me her name. Then, one drunken knock on the wrong door brings Madeline into my bedroom.

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.

I've always shot for the moon, but if you'd told me I'd be earning seven figures at twenty-four, I would never have believed you. And if you'd told me that I'd earn every penny of that success by selling my body and my soul, I'd have laughed in your face. Still. Here I am at Seraph, an elite agency that recruits only the most well-educated, accomplished and discreet women. Our area of expertise? "Full service" executive assistants to the most powerful men in the world.

My reputation at Fairview University preceded me. I was the projected number-one pick in the NHL draft and the fan favorite at the rink. People wanted to be me or be with me. Except for Lyla James Marichal. She didn't look at me like I was her next meal. She eyed me with disdain. Instead of vying for my attention, she ignored me and pushed me away. She was completely unattainable, and I became obsessed with her. When I finally got her, it felt like I was on top of the world. I was going to help the team win another championship, going into the draft, and had Lyla by my side.

There are a few things that life doesn’t prepare you for. Like what to do when a super-hot guy catches you sneaking around in his basement, or what to do when a mysterious package shows up with tickets to a hockey game (because, apparently, he’s a professional athlete). Nor how to handle it when you get to the game and realize he’s freaking famous, since half of the 20,000 people in the stands are wearing his jersey.

I want a girl I can't have. She's my tutor. My best friend's girlfriend. And my kryptonite. She also looks really good in my T-shirt. But she wants the golden boy, and I'm more of the villain type. Or at least I was.... Until I saw her smile for the first time. But the good guy she wants wouldn't lust after his friend's girlfriend. And the good guy she's with sure as hell shouldn't be sneaking around behind her back. So where the hell does that leave me?

Callum Griffin is the heir to the Irish mafia. He’s ruthless, arrogant, and he wants to kill me. We got off on the wrong foot when I set a (very small) fire in his house. Our families believe a marriage pact is the only thing that will prevent all-out warfare. I think I might need to murder him while he sleeps. This would all be a lot easier if Callum wasn’t so damned good-looking.

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

He was my best friend’s older brother. My first love, who left town without so much as a goodbye. Eight years later, I’ve said yes to marrying another man—Julian Baker. I’m finally ready to let go of my past for a new future. But like all gut-wrenching love triangles, my past and future collide in a cruel twist of fate.

Sometimes I need an escape from the demands, the puck bunnies, and the notoriety that come with being an NHL team captain. I just want to be a normal guy for a few weeks. So when I leave Chicago for some peace and quiet, the last thing I expect is for a gorgeous woman to literally fall into my lap on a flight to Alaska. Even better, she has absolutely no idea who I am.

Cecilia "CeCe" Ashby is finally escaping the toxic relationship that has consumed her entire adult life. She's returning to her hometown of Laurel Creek, Kentucky, and her family's equestrian ranch, unsure of what the future holds. Nash Carter, the newly retired superstar of the Dallas Stars, is Laurel Creek's hometown hero, local business owner, and notorious bachelor. He's also the unofficial fourth sibling in the Ashby clan. It's been years since his days of tormenting CeCe with her older brothers Wade and Cole. So, when CeCe needs a job, he feels drawn to help 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.

Hosting her brother's wedding for an MVP guest list is the challenge of Jess Canning's life. Already the family screw-up, she can't afford to fail. And nobody (nobody!) can learn of the colossal mistake she made with the best man during a weak moment last spring. It was wrong, and there will not be a repeat. Absolutely not. Even if he is the sexiest thing on two legs.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

Our first meeting was at a nightclub, and it was something straight out of my most romantic fantasies. My ovaries exploded at the sight of the Russian God. And by God, I mean he was ripped, tall, dark, and deadly attractive. There were enough sparks between us to light up a city. Then an explosion blasted through the nightclub, and we got trapped together for three hours, sharing our most personal details...everything but our names. Two years later, our second meeting is the complete opposite of the first. It's clear Misha Petrov, a Russian enforcer for the bratva, despises me.