‘Back to Highschool’ frat parties aren’t my scene. But when the games start, and I’m dared to join in, I can’t resist. You see, dares have always provided an excuse to be a crazy and exciting version of me. The kind of girl who steps into a closet wearing a little black dress and a blindfold, with no idea what to expect.

They call him Big D because he is. Tall and broad, with muscles so thick and good, all I can think about is getting a grip on his biceps and squeezing. Then there’s the other reason. All the girls talk about it. I’m not sure how everyone knows he’s hung like a horse, but they do. I try not to think about it because he’s a popular football player who everybody knows, and I’m just a work-focused history major who likes to stay mostly invisible at school.

After being dumped at a strip club during my bachelorette party, I didn't expect to be rescued by four hot-as-sin men who work there. One moment, I'm staring at the gorgeous twin strippers up on stage. The next, I'm reading a devastating text from my fiancé. I moved across the country for that jerk, and now I have nowhere to go. Then four men step in to dry my tears. They invite me to the house they share and take care of me. I should be mourning the end of my engagement, but instead I'm mesmerized by my new roommates.

A visit to a strip club starts the wildest four nights of my life. Four nights that change things forever. In less than a week, I go from having zero experience with men to being teased that I collect them like some women collect shoes. First, there’s Garrett, my also-inexperienced IT department coworker who offers to accompany me to Club Red because he thinks I’m in need of a protector. Then there’s Trevor, a performer in the male revue show, whose panty-dropping dance moves are rivaled only by his playful and caring spirit.

Bumping into my three ex-Seal one-night stands from years ago, now living next door? Yep, our fresh start just turned into a wild complication for me and my son. Life as a single mom in Lilyfield seemed simple until my past walked back in—Justin, Ben, and Mason, the men from a long-ago wild night, reappeared. Justin's tender care contrasts with his fierce passion, making every moment with him a whirlwind of emotion. Ben, with his commanding presence and protective nature, stirs something deep within me. And Mason, whose quiet strength and understanding complements the trio perfectly.

It was supposed to be a one-night stand with my ex. As a single mom, I desperately needed a night of guilt-free fun. But when I showed up at his place, his two best friends were there. That didn’t stop us. It only made things a lot more fun. Now it’s weeks later, and I still can’t get that sweaty night of fun out of my head. And the three swoony guys? I keep running into them around town.

I was unceremoniously dumped and humiliated. My heartache doesn't go unnoticed, though. The three hottest men I've ever met have protected me my entire life. And they happen to be my best friends. My three heroes devise a plan to get back at my ex—a man who never truly deserved me.

I'm not expecting to see my ex when I pull up at the car repair shop. He left my body wrecked and my heart bruised and if he wasn't surrounded by five other hot mechanics, I'd call out his terrible behavior. When six men want to get deep with me, facing up to the ghosts of my past might just be impossible.

As a secret Omega living as a Beta, I’ve worked hard to build a good life and escape my past. So when I land a job as the assistant to three powerful Alpha billionaires, I focus on keeping my head down—despite the way their intoxicating scents make my head spin. Everything is going fine… until the day my blockers fail and I start perfuming. I’m terrified that my three bosses are going to turn me over to the authorities so that I can be presented as an Omega and courted by a pack. But they don’t. Instead, they make me an offer: one year of marriage.

Ever get drunk and depressed on New Year’s Eve and order a personal trainer? Because I was so tipsy, I ordered three. When they all show up the next day, devilish smiles and looking at me with rippling muscles, sculpted abs, and tight butts, I feel even more out of shape.

After fleeing a shattered engagement, I wanted a fresh start in New York City, but instead all I got was a tiny apartment with a communal bathroom and a rat that steals my Oreos. Oh, and one hot night I won’t soon forget. What I didn't expect was the gorgeous man at the bar to want his two best friends to watch us together. How was I supposed to know they were about to be my new bosses?

A sexy photoshoot is not supposed to end with the model showing me all of his best positions. Especially not so soon after my break up. After what my ex did, I’ve concluded that men aren’t worth my time or trust. Except Mason is fun and sexy as hell. When he smiles, his dimples and blue eyes melt a little bit of the ice inside me, and when he takes his shirt off, well damn!

For my senior year of college, I’m renting a bedroom in a house with three other girls. So it’s a huge shock when I move in and discover...that my roommates are three swoony guys. As if that wasn’t bad enough: I almost hooked up with two of them last night.

What do you do when you’re so empty inside, you feel nothing? When all you’ve ever known was pain? You run. That’s what I did—I ran away without once looking back. People say starting over is the best way for a new beginning, but that’s far from the truth if you end up back where you began. Sometimes life likes to throw lemons at you really hard until there’s nothing left to do but make lemonade. I’ve known pain, but not the kind that messes with my heart.

When these guys showed up to board their dogs, I thought they were just a trio of extremely handsome men. I definitely didn’t know they were the three most famous athletes in St. Louis. Christian, the stoic, broad-shouldered quarterback who oozes leadership and confident charm from every pore. Braden, the blond wide receiver who’s extremely cocky—when he’s not being a mischievous goofball. Logan, known as the Toronto Terror, the hockey left wing who growls more than he speaks and has a habit of picking fights on—and off—the ice.