The hottest rock star in the world walking into my work wasn’t on my bingo card. Speak of the devil . . . My soon-to-be ex-husband. Shane Faris is taller than I remember. Scruffier. More attractive than ever and sporting a sinful smirk that tells me he hears “Yes” too much. Figures. He offers me the divorce I want, but on one condition . . . Two nights together, for old times' sake.

You’d think nearly dying trying to get out of a too-tight gown in a dressing room and being saved by a strong, competent man was a good thing. Not so much, though, when that strong, competent man is your ex. Your secret ex. And the reason you need a gown is because you’re part of a charity auction. The charity auction where he gets into a bidding war to win you. And now, because you’re one of few female coaches in professional baseball, and he’s the captain of the local professional hockey team, and he paid a ridiculous sum of money for you…

I hate my boss. Like, loathe him. Two years ago, he semi-broke my heart and he still doesn’t remember who I am. Okay so I was covered in electric blue body paint, and wearing a wig, but is that a good excuse to not remember the girl you said was your destiny? Now I’m stuck working for the jerk because only he can give me the job I really want—manager of his hotel. When he needs a fake fiancé for business reasons, there’s an easy solution—blackmail. He has to give me a trial run as hotel manager in return for wearing his ring.

I caught her staring at me from across the quad, eyes fixed on the football jersey stretched across my wide chest. And if I flexed my muscles, showing off the strength of a defensive tackle, it was just to see her blush. And then she did, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Her wide eyes. The freckles on her cheeks. I needed to know her. The girl who scampered away every time we bumped into each other—by accident and by design.

I’ve sworn off men to focus on my dream job that starts on Monday. But my best friend talks me into a final night of fun—a blind date. I only agree because the guy is going to work as a doctor in Africa. It’s the best date of my life. Dr. Africa makes me laugh and swoon, and I want to give him a thorough physical examination. He turns into Dr. One Night Stand, and I’m not sad about it. Monday morning, I’m enthusiastic and excited, until I bump into...you guessed it.

When an older guy with a dirty grin and an expensive suit flirts with me from the next barstool, I don’t realize I’m about to have a one-night stand with the man I desperately want to work for. After a night that leaves my world (and body) shaken, I start my summer job housekeeping in a five-star hotel even though I’m determined to kickstart my career in tech. As I dust and polish the Park Suite, in walks Mr. Dirty Grin—now with an icy glare.

A week ago, if you told me my boyfriend was cheating on me, I would have called you a liar. If you said a movie star would walk into my bakery and offer to help make my ex jealous, I would have thought you'd eaten one too many of my grandmother's special brownies. And if you had the audacity to suggest my fake date would turn into the love of my life? I would have told you to stop toying with me. I've been through enough disappointment lately.

Mission: Survive my best friend's wedding, where I must play nice with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend. Strategy: Bring the hottest fake boyfriend on the planet. Target: Grady Rock. Master baker. Dimples. Muscles. The unicorn of fake boyfriends. Complication: Wyatt Morgan. My brother's best friend. My sworn enemy. Military man. Sexy as hell single dad. The man I let into my panties for one night of hot hate sex after my ex dumped me.

Whip King cannot be the man for me. Cocky, pierced firefighters are perfect for late-night rom-coms, but in real life they’re nothing but trouble. Especially when you find out they work for your dad—after you’ve already slept with them. Moving to my parents’ small town was supposed to be the fresh start I was looking for. When a disastrous Valentine’s Day leads to an unexpected encounter with a sexy stranger, and ends with the hottest night of my life, I didn’t think I would ever see Whip again.

I’ve always been a wild card–the first to start a fight on the ice, and the life of the party off it–but appearances can be deceiving. Being traded to the Boston Rebels could not have come at a better time. With serious family obligations to fulfill and a contract renewal with a new hockey team on the line, I have no time for anything else. I return to Boston knowing I need to buckle down and focus on what really matters.

My name is Caroline "Candy" Cane, I own a country inn, date a man who runs a Christmas tree farm, and my mom's peppermint fudge wins first place at the Reindeer Corners' festival every year. Basically, I'm living every romance-loving girlie's small town dream. Until a last minute trip to New York City leads to catching my boyfriend banging a Rockette (in full elf costume). So, when I'm offered a chance to star in a hospitality-themed reality show, I jump at the chance to serve hot cocoa in roller skates on national television.

Jess: Meet Mark Donovan. Ex-Army sniper. CEO of a multi-billion dollar global empire. Chiseled to the nth degree. And a man I want nothing to do with.I know the type. Dangerous. Sexy. A bad-boy who fills out a Tom Ford suit or pair of Calvin's in equally drool-worthy ways. At his core, the worst kind of heartbreaker. The kind who doesn't even know he did it.

I had one thing on my mind and that was never going to change: The game. The only goal I had was beating the records set by my family. I didn’t have time for anything else. Until she walked in the room. The earth shifted, just like the stories said it would. I said it wouldn’t happen—not to me. I didn’t have the time, but now she was the only thing on my mind. I knew it was her. Now I had to convince her.

Strange men do funny things when you score the last cinnamon roll. Sometimes he rages about the high crime of jacking his precious pastry. Sometimes he offers you ludicrous bribes to buy it back. And sometimes—after shattering your faith in humanity—you find out he's your new boss. I'm not laughing.

My new boss—Alexander Bane. Aptly named since he’s the bane of my existence. Please isn’t in his vocabulary. He grunts, growls, and demands. If only he didn’t look so sexy when doing so. If only his mouth weren’t so addictive when kissing mine. He’s quickly becoming my favorite boss. Which is wrong. My new assistant is an unwelcomed distraction. Snarky, witty, always smiling. Constantly putting me in my place. Making me second-guess my decisions.