I can explain the want ads for saucy male companionship I'm posting. I can even explain pretending to date the city's most notorious playboy. They say revenge is a dish best-served cold, but mine is going to be spicy, sizzling, and hilariously humiliating. My ex, Vaughn, cheated, stole from me, and worse. I refused to be the lovable, heartbroken heroine who hides under a pile of tissues and ice cream pints. Oh no, not me.

You know that instinct to run when something bad is coming? Yeah. I apparently missed out on that one. Because when Damon Rose came, instead of running, I got pregnant.

I have two goals this season: 1. Be named captain of the Seattle Serpents. 2. Stay single. I'm right on track . . . until she happens. Auden Sinclair.

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.

Gwen Fox has two obsessions: her life's work and her hatred of Ty Sterling, the cynical billionaire who wants to shut down her program. About to lose everything, Gwen is forced to travel to Peru to change his mind. Her mission to save her team takes an unexpected turn when the pair find themselves stranded alone together in the jungle. Forced to rely on each other, the space between enemies and lovers begins to collapse. As their bickering reaches new heights, so does their undeniable attraction. Gwen starts to see that Ty's heart may not be made of stone after all.

One of the cardinal rules of matchmaking I was positive I'd never break. That is until Nathan Wilder walked into Love Moore Matchmaking Agency, needing my help to find him the one. A tall order to ask since he was the most hated man in the NHL. Broody. Crude. Abrasive. The man was a six-foot-three walking red flag. Right off the bat, every fiber of my being told me he'd be trouble. He wasn't looking for love. It was all a PR stunt to clean up his image so he could keep playing for the Boston Guardians. But there was something in his sad, soulful eyes that just pulled me in.

You see, I'm starting a new job on Monday at a sports TV network, and I was treating myself to a way too expensive cut at one of Miami's chicest hair salons in preparation when he walked in. By he, I mean, a tall, inked, European, and breathtakingly hot NBA superstar named Antoni Nowak. And Antoni happens to be interested in me—despite seeing me in that awful salon lighting, with wet hair, and draped in a smock.

Faking an engagement to my secret high school crush was not on my to-do list when I landed for a short visit home. But when Amanda Anderson announces that she’s my fiancée, I take a leap and play along with the farce. Why? Because the Capulets and Montagues have nothing on the Andersons and Silvers of Tinsel, Michigan. In the name of bringing peace to our Christmas-themed hometown and ourselves, we’ll play the part of Romeo and Juliet.

After a nasty breakup with my ex, his dad takes pity on me and offers to drive me home. But when a snowstorm strands us in the middle of nowhere, we're forced to find a roadside motel with nothing to do… but each other. There's only one tiny bed... and he's huge. We wake up the next morning tangled like pretzels.

How good are you at keeping a secret? Because I, Juniper Perry, have been keeping a big one. For over a decade, I’ve been crushing on the guy with the easy smile, warm brown eyes, and charismatic charm. He’s all the perfect things that, when you add them up, spell out Man of my dreams. I know that doesn’t sound bad at all, but there’s more to this story. We work together. I’m a lowly intern, and he’s a high-powered executive. He’s my newest neighbor. No joke—he’s temporarily living next door to me. And to top it all off, he’s my best friend’s older brother.

There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t date Fletcher Huxley. He’s a growly-faced, stubborn-streaked, international rugby legend trying to revive his flailing career in the US after being canned by his team overseas. While he might have the good kind of thunder thighs, intriguing tattoos, and a booty of steel, he also holds the top position on my very short nemesis list thanks to what happened the first time we met.

I flee for my life when I leave Chicago, escaping a lifetime of misery. From the moment my eyes land on Mya Whitfield—I'm done for. Don't even get me started on watching her play the cello. I've never envied anything like I envy that enormous piece of wood between her legs. Move over, cello… There's a new man in town.

Elise Brandeis has never won a Pulitzer—and she never will. At least not while she’s delivering sandwiches at the Gotham Times instead of working there as an actual reporter. Her only shot at seeing her byline in print is to prove to the no-nonsense managing editor that she has a nose for news. And she’s got just the story to grab her elusive attention—right after she delivers this turkey on ciabatta. Chasing down leads brings Elise to Roosevelt Island, but just when the trail of clues begins to take shape, she gets stuck—literally.

Housekeeper for a stunningly handsome, male-model billionaire? Yep, that’s my job and it’s as dreamy as it sounds. I get to live in his ridiculously huge mansion, and all I have to do is take care of his mom and daughter, who are practically family. To top it off, the notoriously bossy Mr. King has been away for business since I started. But he came home today. Liam King looks like he stepped out of a GQ magazine, and the way he undresses me with his eyes should be illegal. He ignites my body. Every part of it. But It doesn’t matter how tempting he is. I can’t have him.

If Renn Brewer would’ve asked me to marry him, I would’ve said no. Why? One, his reputation precedes him. His name is in the headlines at least once a month. Two, he’s not just my brother’s best friend. They’re teammates. And three, I’m in my self-care era. Unfortunately, a version of me equates self-care with bad choices.