Let me make a few things clear. I didn’t go to the wedding intending to dance with the best man, to dare him to show me a very sexy pic on his phone, or to accidentally kiss him in the hotel elevator after the reception ended. But things just happen at weddings. The next day, Crosby and I agree to put all those shenanigans behind us. The fun-loving, stupidly gorgeous, all-star baseball player might be my brother’s best friend, but he’s my good friend too and has been for years. I can't risk losing him, even though now I can't stop thinking about how I want him to be my first.

Look, when I met the sexy, witty Brit on the streets of London last night, I had no idea who he was. He was just that hot guy I wanted to have a drink with, so I asked him out for my first evening in town. One thing almost led to another. After a midnight kiss, we made plans for a whole lot more the next day. But when I unlock the door to my rental in the morning, the English hottie is lounging on the couch like he lives here too. Great. For the next year, I’ll be sharing a tiny flat with the sexiest guy I’ve ever known.

When I discover my boyfriend is cheating on me, I move out right away taking what I love most – my dog. As I fly out the door, I make sure to swipe the thing my ex loves best–the VIP tickets he won to a hockey game, complete with the chance to spend an evening with the city’s two biggest NHL stars. I can’t wait to snap selfies with my ex’s idols and rub it in his face.

For the last year, I’ve wanted someone I can’t have. The man my father built his latest multimillion-dollar business with. He’s nearly a decade older than I am, and he’s entirely forbidden. The fact that he’s never given me a second glance only makes me long for him more.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

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I’m a rookie, in every sense of the word. But even though I have a wicked crush on the sexy shortstop on my baseball team, I won’t give in to my fantasies about him. I’m here in the majors for the first time to play ball. Not to experience my first time with a man. Trouble is, Declan Steele is sexy, flirty, and now he’s my new workout partner. We’re spending mornings together in the gym, getting to know each other. Our connection is powerful—maybe because we each have our fair share of secrets and scars. Ones we'll both fight to protect.

I’ve got a list of people I absolutely don’t ever want to be stuck with on a boat, or a plane, or a train, and it starts and ends with the broody, grumpy, too-sexy-for-my-own good Axel Huxley. Also known as this romance novelist’s number one nemesis. The man is legendary for his mighty pen and his even mightier scowl. I tried to work together with the cocky thriller writer once upon a time, but the two of us are like vodka and good decisions. We don’t play well together.

Let me list the reasons why dating the sexy, charming pro hockey star is a bad idea: He’s one of my closest friends. All our friends are friends. The wounds I’ve got from past relationships go deep. And so do his. We’re both devoutly single - it’s just safer for the heart that way. But there’s no reason not to bid on the gorgeous, clever athlete at the charity auction this weekend. If I win, it’ll be a "friendsdate".

I have to stop replaying the one night I spent with my rival. Trouble is, that white-hot encounter with the other quarterback answered a lot of questions I’ve had about myself, but it also led me into this mess where he hates me. I never showed up for our second date. Since, well, life happened, and the worst part is he’ll never know how much that night meant to me.

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When you think about how easy it is to lose keys, phones, sunglasses and your dignity on social media, you might figure it'd be a cinch for me to ditch my V Card. You'd be wrong. At 25, I run a successful business, live in a fantastic apartment, and have fabulous friends to go out with any night of the week. And yet I'm still a card-carrying member of a club I don't want to belong to anymore. Good thing I know just the man for the deflowering job - my brother’s business partner and best friend.

I live my life by a few simple rules—let no one in, trust only my family, and don’t ever spend more than three nights with a woman. Those are easy enough to abide by until I meet gorgeous, captivating, and absolutely brilliant Sophie Winston and fall into a dangerous romance with the sister of the detective investigating my father’s murder.

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That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star? Turns out he’s my son’s new music teacher. The night I met Campbell all I knew was he played my body the same way he strummed a guitar — like he owned it. Now I’ve learned he’s the man coming to my house twice a week to teach my kid — the best music lessons money can buy. Time to turn down the volume on the late-night shenanigans with the sexy single dad. Only that’s easier said than done....

I got the dreaded phone call, the one every baseball player hopes and prays never comes. I was traded - yeah, that phone call - traded from my longtime team of over 10 years to not just any team...to my childhood rivals, the Chicago Rebels. I was completely and utterly screwed, right? Wrong. The trade was the least of my concerns. I met a girl, Natalie. She was perfect, but I swore I would never get involved with anyone during the season. It was too complicated. But can you believe I had zero restraint when it came to this girl?

As the captain of the Chicago Aces, Marc Dupuis is all business. The apartment he shares with his teammate and best friend, Duncan, is a refuge from the pressures of fame. But when the sexiest woman he's ever seen interrupts his early morning coffee wearing only a skimpy cami and matching panties, Marc can't exactly say that he minds. Their chemistry is off the charts. Unfortunately, this girl's no random puck bunny. She's Duncan's little sister, and she's moving in.

With his tight muscles and vibrant ink, certified bachelor Reece Walker is the kind of man who’s used to having any woman he craves in his bed - except Jenna Montgomery. She’s been his best friend for years, and that’s a line he just can’t cross. Until a wild, stolen kiss changes everything. Now anything goes, and Reece is determined to use every wicked skill in his sensual repertoire to claim Jenna as his friend, his lover, his everything.

As the Dating Guy on L.A.'s top morning show, I give the single guy's perspective on dating, love, and sex - and I give great advice. Everyone's hooking up...well, except for me. Sure, I can get any woman I want, but I've got a no-relationship clause in my contract, and the only woman I want has relationship written all over her. Unfortunately, she wants nothing to do with me. At all. Something about the next Ice Age might have even come up in her rebuttal. Adorable.

Breaking news: The bad boy of baseball, Maddox Paige, is totally and utterly whipped. Okay, that might not be the headline in the newspaper this morning, but it's the reality of my current situation. It all started a month ago when I received a call from my best friend, Kinsley. She’d gotten a new job in Chicago and needed a place to stay. I've known the girl since I was five, so I figured there wouldn't be any harm in having her stay at my place for a while. Ha! Total disaster.

Hotshot sports editor Cole Sharpe has been freelancing for Oxford magazine for years, so when he hears about a staff position opening up, he figures that he's got the inside track. Then his boss drops a bombshell: Cole has competition. Female competition, in the form of a fresh-faced tomboy who can hang with the dudes and write circles around them, too. Penelope Pope knows all too well that she comes off as just one of the guys.

My name is Courtney Jane Salinger...and I'm sick of games. Sick of the Friday night bar-scene-cum-meat-market. Sick of awful dates and one-night stands, booty calls and guys who don’t call back, mixed messages or no messages and - and - and...I'm sick of all of it. I’m done. It's too hard, and worse: little by little, it's making me hard. It's breaking my heart. What do I want? That's easy. I want a house in suburbia with a white picket fence. I want babies to buckle into a minivan. But most of all, I want to be married. I want a husband.

Sela Sullivan is resolved to be the best maid of honor ever, even if it means tolerating the best man. Insufferable, too-handsome Luke Watters is not only the guy who humiliated her at a kissing booth in high school, but he also happens to be her best friend's older brother. Positive he's the same arrogant jock, Sela vows to focus on her duties and steer clear of the frustrating - and frustratingly tempting - Luke.

Kayla Maxwell is eager to shed her slasher-flick bimbo image - and she plans to do just that in her new role on daytime's most popular soap. With a chance to showcase her dramatic range, Kayla will be able to wash away the lingering betrayal and public humiliation left by her controlling, philandering ex-boyfriend. Sean Barrett, the son of an influential, award-winning actor, is the hottest soap star in the country. Paired on-screen with the talented and beautiful Kayla Maxwell, Sean is determined to keep her at arm's length, burned before by fame-seeking actresses who had no qualms about using him to get to his famous father.

We have reputations for a reason. His? Spencer Beckett: Princeton Charming. Ivy League Playboy. Rich AF. Hers? Charlotte Hayes: Campus sweetheart. Virgin. Working her booty off to get through this last semester. When a bet pushes these two together, it's fire and ice...and Charlotte is melting. Fast. But Charlotte has a chip on her shoulder. She doesn't believe that fairy tales exist in the real world.

Thirty-two and finally setting up her veterinary practice in the town she once called home, Emma Burnett is on her own and loving it. Independent and driven, she's not letting any man get in the way of her dreams. Not again.

Haunted by the responsibility of caring for her troubled family, Maya Jacobs gave the only answer she could when Cameron asked her to marry him. Years later, entrenched in a soulless professional routine, she distracts herself from the lingering regret of her decision with a "work hard, play hard" lifestyle that guarantees no man will ever find his way into her heart again.

Nate Reynolds is a smooth-talking playboy cop who finds himself wanting to settle down when he meets Jenny Jones, a forever kind of girl with hearts in her eyes.

Waitress Marjorie Ivarsson is the picture of naiveté. Raised by her grandmother, she'd rather go to bingo than go dancing. But when she's asked to be a bridesmaid in her friend Bronte's destination wedding, she finds herself venturing into new and exciting territory. The wedding is set on the billionaire groom's private island, and Marjorie is fascinated by all the new people she meets. Most fascinating of all is the man she saves from almost drowning in the blue waters of the island lagoon.

Here come the (Barefoot Bay) brides! They’re experts at planning dreamy “I do’s” but haven’t found their own happily ever after...yet. Destination wedding consultant Willow Ambrose has fought a battle with the scale for much of her life, but she has finally won the war. She hasn’t just cut calories - she’s cut all ties to her past, too, and successfully carved out a new body and a new life. But when she comes face to face with someone who left an indelible mark on her heart years before, all that threatens to crumble.

Let me make a few things clear. I didn’t go to the wedding intending to dance with the best man, to dare him to show me a very sexy pic on his phone, or to accidentally kiss him in the hotel elevator after the reception ended. But things just happen at weddings. The next day, Crosby and I agree to put all those shenanigans behind us. The fun-loving, stupidly gorgeous, all-star baseball player might be my brother’s best friend, but he’s my good friend too and has been for years. I can't risk losing him, even though now I can't stop thinking about how I want him to be my first.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

The first time I met Winter Marks, I almost took her out with my Jeep. To be fair, she came out of nowhere. I flirted with her, and she flipped me off and disappeared into the woods on her bike. But she left me a souvenir: a single hockey skate. Seemed to me that divine intervention shouldn’t be ignored. She was my icy Cinderella, and I would be her Prince Not-So-Charming. Winter was more than just a sassy, badass hockey-playing hottie. She’s stuck in a prison of a life. And I’m the perfect escape. Neither of us expected to fall. Or for the truth to shatter us.

I have to stop replaying the one night I spent with my rival. Trouble is, that white-hot encounter with the other quarterback answered a lot of questions I’ve had about myself, but it also led me into this mess where he hates me. I never showed up for our second date. Since, well, life happened, and the worst part is he’ll never know how much that night meant to me.

I’ve got a list of people I absolutely don’t ever want to be stuck with on a boat, or a plane, or a train, and it starts and ends with the broody, grumpy, too-sexy-for-my-own good Axel Huxley. Also known as this romance novelist’s number one nemesis. The man is legendary for his mighty pen and his even mightier scowl. I tried to work together with the cocky thriller writer once upon a time, but the two of us are like vodka and good decisions. We don’t play well together.

The trouble is Sloane is smack dab next to me from nine to freaking five. And she's as captivating, brilliant, and sexy as ever, which means I'm taking more than the recommended dosage of office romance temptation every day. Make that every single second, because she's not only "the one" - she's the one who got away.

Just my luck - my new next door neighbor is a unicorn. Yep, the British hottie is clearly a mythical man because - get this - he's a sexy, witty, charming, big-hearted single dad. Who, wait for it, wants to find Mrs. Right and get hitched. He’s a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of man, and it’s a darn shame I’m not on the market. If I were, his accent alone would melt me. Add in the fact that he's a veterinarian, and my animal-loving heart would be flip flopping.

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In my defense, I was left alone with a bottle of single-malt and a lifelong penchant for protecting my baby sister. Still, that's no excuse to send 10 drunk-texts on why her hasty marriage would be a mistake. If only I had just texted my sister. But nope. I accidentally sent the message to her, her groom, and his super hot wingman. I also used the phrase “super hot wingman”, so I’d like to die now.

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