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.

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.

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.

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.

Worth is charming, dependable, and every bit the perfect gentleman. But the moment he lays eyes on Sophia, his carefully controlled world shatters. She's the one he didn't know he was waiting for, and now? He'll do whatever it takes to make her his.

I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!

The list of reasons I should stay away from my neighbor is about as long as his... wrench. He’s a dirty mechanic, he’s a single dad, and he can’t seem to keep his shirt on for more than five minutes. Did I mention his ex-wife is my best friend? Yeah. Reid Riggins is absolutely, one hundred percent, the last person in the world I should get involved with. Even if he is heart-stoppingly gorgeous with strong, powerful hands that could rip my clothes off with ease. Not that I’ve imagined that, of course.

The good news is I was recently named head coach of the Portsmouth Whalers hockey team, the youngest coach in the NHL for their newest expansion team. The bad news? Brace yourself. I wish I had when I found out my half-brother just took his life. When I got up off the floor I also found out he left me with a mountain of debt-and his baby daughter.

Seven years ago, my best friends and I made a promise: No matter what, we would never date one of the King brothers. Even if they grew up to become megafamous, gorgeous, heart-stopping billionaires. Even if they crawled on their knees and begged for forgiveness. But guess who just flew back into our lives in a private jet? And guess who just showed up to my job on my first day? Richard. King. Fortunately, it takes two seconds for Richard to reveal he hasn’t changed. Conceited. Cocky. Rude. Unfortunately, he’s also the kind of gorgeous that’s borderline offensive.

Fake date a grumpy boss for Christmas. Enjoy some forced proximity with a flirtatious best friend for Valentine's Day. Wake up married to an Irishman in Vegas for St. Patrick's Day. Every day is a hot and hilarious holiday with this family.

Dean Sharp is a breathtakingly gorgeous, arrogant, and an asshole. At least that’s my first impression when he knocks out my abusive boyfriend. When we get home, I know my boyfriend’s going to make me pay for what Dean did. But Dean Sharp isn’t done meddling in my life. He grabs me from outside my motel, throws me in his car, and says I’m his hostage. He doesn’t want money, though. He wants me to pretend to be his fiancee so his daughter and brothers don’t suspect anything. And he says he won’t let me go until he’s sure I’ll never go back to my abusive boyfriend.

When I walked away from Makayla ten years ago, I swore I’d never look back. So did she, after the haunting lie I told her...But it was the only way to keep her safe and as far away from me as possible. She’s better off without me. I don’t care if I’m broken without her. But years later, when I’m hired by her agent to act as her bodyguard, I can’t keep myself away, especially when I learn how much danger she's in. Now she’s mine for a week, and I’m not going to let anything happen to her. Even if she seems intent on making my life a living hell.

When grumpy, muscled-up artist Bennett Bishop bothers to speak, it’s usually to say something you’re not ready to hear. When he first speaks to Norah Ellis, a rambling runaway bride who hitchhikes a ride from him, it’s to tell her to get out of his truck and walk because she’s a pain in the a-s-s. By appearance, Norah Ellis is a fancy fashionista who’s spent the last several years living the good life in the city—expensive apartments, highbrow events, and a fiancé with wealth and good looks. The only problem is that she didn’t choose any of it for herself.

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.