There are a few things that life doesn’t prepare you for. Like what to do when a super-hot guy catches you sneaking around in his basement, or what to do when a mysterious package shows up with tickets to a hockey game (because, apparently, he’s a professional athlete). Nor how to handle it when you get to the game and realize he’s freaking famous, since half of the 20,000 people in the stands are wearing his jersey.

My name is Rachel Price, and two months ago, I walked away from the perfect man. Sweet and funny, and so hot it should be illegal—we shared one magical night. No names. No strings. I never thought I'd see him again. I was wrong. It turns out Mr. Perfect is the playboy grinder for the Jacksonville Rays, the NHL's hottest new hockey team . . . and I'm his new physical therapist. Oh, and the jerk doesn't even recognize me!

“Give me a second chance, babe . . . and I’ll blow your mind.” Monroe doesn’t know why she answers the text that’s obviously meant for someone else. Or why she keeps answering. Maybe it’s because she’s all alone in a big city and in desperate need of a lifeline. Or maybe it’s because each exchange leaves her intrigued and more than a little turned on. Still, Monroe never would’ve snarked back if she’d known she was talking to the “Golden Boy” of the Dallas Knights.

My father isolated me while chaos swept the country. All my life, he hid me away like a precious jewel for being too curious, too attracted to danger. Then I got myself kidnapped. My saviors are three brutal men on roaring motorcycles—the Sons of Odin MC. I know a governor’s daughter shouldn’t dream of men with haunted eyes. Men who have killed, pillaged, and ransacked this broken country I’m trying to fix. But when the Sons of Odin become my personal bodyguards, I’m not just curious. I’m insatiable.

When my brother’s best friend asks me to fake marry him to secure a business deal he desperately needs, I laugh in his face. Me, help Carter Harrington? That’s split-your-pants, rip-roaring hilarious. I don’t even like him.

Of two things I'm certain: When something sounds too good to be true, it is; and when Alexius Del Rossa makes you a deal, you run far away and never look back. Me? I didn't run. I stayed. I opened that envelope, and I accepted his offer. Why? Because my life was a mess and on a downward spiral to a big, fat nothing. And he just offered me everything in exchange for six months of my life. It was supposed to be a simple arrangement, but I learned the hard way that nothing is simple when it comes to Alexius.

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.

Lucca Pixon is the hockey player everyone dreams about being near—and being with. And, yes, I secretly had his baby. The truth could cost me my career and get him into trouble, too, so the single mom life is how I’ve been surviving. That is, until I’m given an assignment. It looks like Luc has gotten himself into trouble again, and it’s my job to write about it. The last thing I should do is randomly show up before a hockey game with a baby in a stroller and tell Luc he’s the father.

Mikhail Dmitriyev is a beautiful devil with a villainous heart and a thirst for revenge. The choices he gave me when he stole me away from my home with an army of men were very clear—marry me or die. I chose to marry him and live. But there’s one small problem with his grand plan to rain Armageddon on the Mexican Cartel. I’m not the woman he thinks I am. I’m not the cartel princess he thinks he took to make his enemies bow to him. When my captor finds out my secret and realizes he married the wrong woman, love won’t be enough to save me. And neither will his obsession.

Hockey with benefits. That was what Mara proposed, and I was down. She said no feelings, and she meant it. Just benefits. No strings attached. Nothing else. Not even friendship. College was her escape, including us. I didn't have time for a girlfriend. I had classes, the team, my family, and the game. It was all working too.... Until somewhere down the line, things got messy. Until somehow we were dealing with threats, secrets, rivals, and so much more. Until I began to want her in ways that weren't part of the deal. Our agreement didn't just get checked into the wall, it got obliterated.

It's official: my step bro is the biggest himbo ever to himbo. He's a massive blond beefcake with a soft heart and an over-eager smile. The mere sight of him incites a shaking hot rage in me. He's everywhere. He's around me all the time. So sweet and gentle that it makes me feel wild. I see him and smell him everywhere. When I can't see him or smell him, I hear him. The wall between our bedrooms is paper thin. I can't help it—I hear what he does in his room when he thinks he's alone. I hear everything.

This collection introduces you to the small island town of Four Points, where the men are big and strong and come in groups of four! Includes Four Play, Four Kicks, Four Real, and Four Keeps.

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.

When you've been told your whole life that something is sinful, you have two options. Avoid it like the plague, like it has the power to destroy all that is good and pure. Or become as fixated upon it as Eve was upon that apple. I'm sick of the push-pull of terror and temptation. It's tearing me apart. I just want a bite of the apple. More than a bite. I want to devour it. Have its juices spill from my lips. And by apple, I, of course, mean sex.

It started out like any other Tuesday. I spent 12 hours writing algorithms for one of the largest companies in the world and then came home to work on a pet project of mine—feeding facts about the men I knew into a formula to find my perfect match before my twenties came barreling to a close.