I'm starting to think I've been doing this for too long. The screaming fans. The constant media attention. The fat paychecks. None of it brings me the happiness I yearn for. Yet here I am. Another year. Another holiday special. Another Christmas spent alone in a hotel room. But then the lights go up. And I see her.

Jackson “The Beast” Boudreaux is rich, gorgeous, and unbelievably rude to the staff at Chef Bianca Hardwick’s New Orleans restaurant. Bianca would sooner douse herself in hot sauce than cook for Jackson again, but when he asks her to cater his fund-raiser, Bianca can’t refuse, knowing the cash will help pay her mother’s medical bills.

Life coach and best-selling author Victoria Price has it all: a successful career, fabulous friends, a fantastic penthouse in Manhattan. What she doesn’t have—and doesn’t want—is a husband. Fifteen years ago her high school flame broke her heart so badly she swore she’d never love again.

Rule number one for becoming an NHL team’s social media manager: Don’t hook up with the star center in an elevator a week before starting your new job.

Declan Hardy, All-American heartthrob and retired NFL billionaire, is my complete opposite. He's commanding where I'm cooperative. Spontaneous while I am deliberate. Loud when I stay quiet. The only thing we have in common is that both our names are on my father's will.

In the beginning, there was Savannah Shaw. Teasing me with a mischievous, merciless grin by day. Crawling through my window with tear-stained cheeks by night. I was ordered to avoid her. Lectured on her misdeeds. Forbidden from seeing her. But my need to protect her was innate. So natural I never questioned it. So visceral I couldn’t fight it.

I'm writing this letter because it's highly doubtful I'll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. So, here goes. We're totally wrong for each other. You're the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I'm just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England. But here's the thing... for some bloody reason, I can't stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.

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.

There are three words most men can’t resist - I dare you. So as you can see, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I had no choice when my buddies said, “I bet you can’t get that brunette beauty to kiss you before the night ends.” I proved them wrong, and oh how good it felt to be right when I swept the quick-tongued woman into my arms and kissed the breath out of her at the party. But, I made a slight miscalculation. Turns out she’s my brand new enemy.

They all insist they don't know me. But they watch me. Every day. Their silence continues until a handsome, tattooed stranger dressed in a suit saunters into the arena and starts sweet-talking me. Then they jump off the ice, ready to fight him to the death. And for some reason…he seems ready to return the favor. Now, I'm being swept into a life of glamorous darkness…and into a war between men I evidently used to love.

I ran from him, even though my heart knew better. Love was one thing, but survival another. I should have known he'd come for me. Men like him always get what they want. The temptation in his eyes, the heat of his touch...it's all still there, but his gaze is harsher now and his grasp unrelenting. He's not the boy I fell in love with, although pieces of what we once had are still there. I can feel it. I know what he wants from me, and I know it comes with a steep price. I'll pay it though, if for no other reason than to touch him again.

Cadence "Cady" Bloomquist knows two things for sure: First, shelving books at her shop, Nevermore Bookstore, totally counts as cardio. Second, staying late every Thursday night to take a certain mysterious customer's order is not the same as waiting by the phone for some man. Until the calls with the man who identifies himself only as "Fox" last for hours, and become the highlight of her week. Which leaves her to wonder, if his velvet voice can kindle her fire over the phone, what sort of alchemy might it inspire if they met in person?

It's not a regular party, but instead, my wedding. To Angelo Rizzo. A coldhearted man who's feared by all. Including me. Turns out my stepbrother owes the Cosa Nostra money, and I'm being used to repay his debt to Angelo Rizzo. Do I have a choice? No. Not when it comes to matters concerning the Cosa Nostra. Three hours later, I have a new shiny wedding ring on my finger and a husband I'm terrified of standing by my side. Yep, my life just took a turn for the worse.

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball. A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger. But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love. He’s fueled by revenge. To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage. His rival’s betrothed. To me, he is a man deserving of poison. A dark prince I refuse to marry. He thinks I’ll accept my fate. Well, I plan to rewrite it. And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die. But Romeo? He perishes.

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....