On the ice, college hockey star Tyler is a god, but to me, he's a remorseless devil. After shattering my heart and scarring my soul, he thinks he can arrogantly skate back into my life. I'm not fooled. He doesn't love me; he doesn't want a second chance. He wants to control me. This is all just a twisted game to him. And I know he's keeping secrets

University life suited her: books and quiet evenings with her bunny were just fine, if a bit boring. Packs were messy, and she just needed to finish school, settle down with a nice alpha, and live her comfortably-ever-after. That had been the plan, before her best friend dragged her to a chaotic hockey game and threw a wrench in everything. When action on the ice takes an unexpected turn, #58 - Grayson Wood - comes crashing through the boards—and right through Molly’s dreams of a quiet life.

As the team’s publicist, I desperately need a football player to be the face of our charity calendar. Turns out our one-time party boy receiver Jones Beckett needs a savvy PR woman to manage his new good guy rep. Sounds like a simple give and take, even though I’ll be traveling around the country, snapping pictures of the sexy athlete holding rescue kittens and puppies. Still, I’m dedicated to my job, so I'll stick to my iron-clad rule—don't date a player. And never ever fall for one. No matter how charming, big-hearted and devilishly clever the man is.

It all starts with a bucket list and a romance novel…. I’ve known Ryder McAdams my entire life. We’re neighbors and our families are besties. He’s also friends and teammates with my younger brother, Maverick. But Ryder and me? We’ve never been close. In fact, I’ve always gotten the distinct impression he doesn’t like me very much. He goes out of his way to ignore me. Know what makes it worse?

Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but the hot guy next door totally gives off serial killer vibes. Why else would he know how long it takes to bleed out from a wound? Yeah, ok, so I asked, but it was research. Being an author definitely makes for some odd questions (someone had better clear my browser history when I die, that's all I'm saying). It's not like I'm stalking my hot neighbor or anything—there's nothing wrong with watching him out my window. Although I might have my own stalker (and not the cute harmless kind), which is kind of terrifying.