From the New York Times bestselling author of Heated Rivalry comes a merry and bright hockey romance about finding your place, finding your people and finding your way back to the one you love the most. "Rachel Reid's hockey heroes are sexy, hot, and passionate!" —#1 New York Times bestselling...

New York Admirals captain Scott Hunter takes his pregame rituals very seriously. In this case, it's not just a lucky smoothie he's craving - it's the man who made it. Pro hockey star Scott Hunter knows a good thing when he sees it. So, when a smoothie made by juice bar barista Kip Grady precedes Scott breaking his on-ice slump, he's desperate to recreate the magic...and to get to know the sexy, funny guy behind the counter.

After the derailment of his hockey dreams and a nasty breakup with his girlfriend, he's ready to put his head down and work hard for the South Carolina NHL team. He doesn't count on Troy Nichols, though. Troy, the star forward for the team, is unexpected in more ways than one. When sparks fly between the pair, there seems little sense in holding back. Can they make it work, or is this little more than a rebound?

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.

Being traded to the Seattle Vipers has left me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, they’re my team, the team I’ve loved and supported since I was a kid, but on the other hand, he’s here. Him. Ant Decker. Infamous NHL bad boy. Right wing to my left. A man who’s made it his sole purpose in life to be better than me.

Carter Morgan III hates everything about South Carolina University except for one thing: hockey. As the starting netminder for the team, he lives for those moments when he can step onto the ice and between the pipes. Unfortunately, his time at school and on the team is slowly coming to an end. Although he'd love nothing more than to pursue a career in the NHL, he knows better than to get his hopes up.

What’s a straight guy to do when he accidentally goes on a date with his brand new gym-bro? Offer to be the best wingman ever, of course! It’s foolproof. Joey needs a man? I’ll find him one. He wants someone who looks, well, kind of like me? No problem! Not into watersports? I’ve got him covered. The issue is, going on all these dates with Joey makes me realize I want more of his time to be spent with me. I like the guy. And his smile. And the way he makes me feel like anything is possible.

I came to Legacy, Montana, to sell a fantasy—twelve Insta-ready #Holidates of Christmas. One career-making brand deal. Zero drama. Then my videographer bailed, and in walked Maddox Sullivan. Grumpy. Gorgeous. Growly. A mountain man with zero chill and even less tolerance for influencers like me. He agrees to film my content—off-camera only—but when my first date cancels, guess who ends up in front of the lens? Cue the fireworks.

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.

Proposing to my first boyfriend at a hockey game wasn’t my smartest move. Not only does said boyfriend walk out on me, but the whole stupid thing goes viral, and it turns out the man I was dating has too many boyfriends to count. Internet fame has crowned me a member of the Jilted Exes’ Club, a name I’d do anything to escape. One thing’s for sure: I’m not making the same mistake again. No more boyfriends, just easy hookups. And I’ll start with this gorgeous catch in Seattle. The only problem…he’s a god in bed, and I’m an inexperienced mess.

Some men are just off-limits. Like, say, all the other football players in the league…. 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…

Best-selling authors Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy return with their first Male/Male romance in 3 years. LobsterShorts, 21. Jock. Secretly a science geek. Hot AF. SinnerThree, 21. Finance major. Secretly a male dancer. Hot AF. LobsterShorts: So. Here goes. For her birthday, my girlfriend wants…a threesome. SinnerThree: Then you’ve come to the right hookup app. LobsterShorts: Have you done this sort of thing before? With another guy? SinnerThree: All the time. I’m an equal opportunity player. You? LobsterShorts: [crickets!]

My new teammate pisses me off. Everyone else is falling over themselves when Golden Boy flashes a fake smile. Me? I just want to wipe it off his face. Off the ice, there's no escaping Nick Sandoval's dimples and plastic grin—because he's my new roommate. And on the ice? We need to get our act together, or else our final year of college hockey's going to waste. I can't ignore him, and I won't put up with that bullshit front he puts up for everyone. Especially when I push his buttons just right and get a glimpse at something no one else has seen—the real Nick Sandoval.

Jamie Canning has never been able to figure out how he lost his closest friend. Four years ago, his tattooed, wisecracking, rule-breaking roommate cut him off without an explanation. So what if things got a little weird on the last night of hockey camp the summer they were 18? It was just a little drunken foolishness. Nobody died.

If there’s one thing I don’t need upsetting my quiet and comfortable routine in the small town of Darling, Montana, it’s newcomer Ash Alcott crash landing on my family’s ranch like some sort of blonde angel. I don’t need his flirting. Or his smile. I don’t need the way he makes me question whether or not I’m truly happy being alone at forty. I certainly don’t need to be giving him riding lessons or appreciating the meals he cooks for the ranch.