Me? In love with a fictional character? Of course not! So why was I coughing up flowers every time I thought about the fictional character from my favorite video game? Areth was a sexy, badass monster and utterly perfect, but none of that mattered because he wasn't real. If I really was in love with him, I was going die, and there was nothing I could do about it.

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.

Is there such thing as love at first bar fight? I may be small and pretty, but what I lack in intimidation factor, I make up for in violence. I made a vow five years ago that the motorcycle club responsible for my brother’s death would pay the price, and I’m finally ready to collect. May God have mercy on the men who hurt my brother, because I don’t plan to.

As if my life doesn't suck enough already, my insufferable new roommate, Miller MacAvoy, seems determined to make things weird. He watches me all the time, grinning at me like a beautiful idiot, eyes boring holes into me every time I turn my back on him. It's the last thing I need. Things haven't been going well. College isn't working out at all like I'd hoped. I'm drowning in debt, waiting tables every shift I can get, and falling behind on my studies. Something's got to give. I can't go on like this much longer.

It's official: my step bro is the biggest himbo ever to himbo. He's a massive blond beefcake with a soft heart and an over-eager smile. The mere sight of him incites a shaking hot rage in me. He's everywhere. He's around me all the time. So sweet and gentle that it makes me feel wild. I see him and smell him everywhere. When I can't see him or smell him, I hear him. The wall between our bedrooms is paper thin. I can't help it—I hear what he does in his room when he thinks he's alone. I hear everything.