Meet Randi Burnett—she’s brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she works for the bride. Missing groom? Intoxicated in-laws? Crying ring-bearer? You name it, she wrangles it. Too bad her personal life isn’t thriving like her side gig as a bridesmaid for hire. Recently dumped, Randi throws herself into her biggest challenge yet when she’s hired as a maid of honor and pretend best friend for an ice queen bride. There’s just one problem—the best man is infuriating, overprotective, and anti-marriage.

Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Beckett: If you’re reading this, well, you know the last-letter drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know if there was any chance you could have saved me, you would have. I need one thing from you: get out of the army and get to Telluride. My little sister Ella’s raising the twins alone. She’s too independent and won’t accept help easily, but she has lost our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much for anyone to endure. And here’s the kicker: there’s something else you don’t know that’s tearing her family apart.

Ryder, Garrett, Kenzo, and Diesel - The Vipers. Their deals are as sordid as their business, and their reputation is enough to bring a grown man to his knees, forcing him to beg for mercy. They are not people you mess with, yet my dad did. The old man ran up a debt with them and then sold me to cover his losses. Yes, sold me. They own me now. I’m theirs in every sense of the word. But I’ve never been meek and compliant.

Hattie Murton never dreamed of TV stardom. A straight-from-a-fairytale encounter with a casting agent somehow landed her a part on what she’d thought would be a one-off pilot for Leicester Square…

Three words to describe Kennedy Carter? Smart. Driven. Killer legs. See also: my last hope of winning a national football championship. Okay, so technically that’s more than three, but I’ve got bigger problems at the moment. Thanks to a drunken dare, Waverly University is short a kicker and with the home opener in three weeks, I’ll do whatever it takes to lead my team to victory.

Even so, I never dreamed we'd end up here—him hating me for the choices I made to save his career. It's fine. I've moved on. I've had a few bumps in the road with my rising event planning career, but running my best friend's wedding to her pro-football fiancé will fix all of that. If I pull off the perfect wedding. There's one more bump I wasn't expecting—my ex, Jett McCombs, is a groomsman, and seeing him again makes two things clear. I still love him. He still hates me.

I made a mistake. Hearts are the most fragile part of the body, and I trusted mine with Jude Carlisle. My villain. My weakness. My stepbrother. Fairytales have a way of turning the most innocent things wicked. Jude lied through his teeth, and I fell for every word. Then he burned both our families to the ground in a sick game of revenge and never looked back.

When I enter the Most Valuable Playboy charity auction, my goal is simple—be the player who goes for the most dough. But when trouble shows up at the auction, I need a whole new play. Enter Violet—she's my best friend's sister and she's my close friend too. With a smile as sweet as cherry pie and a mind that runs quicker than the 40-yard-dash, Violet saves the day with the highest bid.

Two years ago, I had the hottest night of my life with a woman who didn’t want to tell me her name—and in a tequila-fueled fever dream, I agreed. She was funny, sexy, and after I got past her brittle shell, secretly very sweet. In the morning, she was gone. I’ve looked for her in every city I’ve played in since. That night ruined me for anyone else, but the woman I only know as “Jersey Girl” never showed up at another game. Not until I skate onto brand new ice as part of the NHL’s latest team. And there she is, in the stands at our season opening game. Very carefully not looking at me.