The first time I met Hudson Rothschild was at a wedding. I’d received an unexpected invitation to one of the swankiest venues in the city. Hudson was a groomsman and quite possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. He asked me to dance, and our chemistry was off the charts. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with him, considering the wedding I was at. But our connection was intense, and I was having a great time. Though the fun came to a screeching halt when Hudson figured out I wasn’t who I’d said I was.

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.

Cutler Ryder was everything I wasn’t. He was the hockey star. I was an outcast. He was best friends with my stepbrother, that same stepbrother who hated me. His two parents loved him. My mom was a junkie. My dad barely knew me. Years passed. I got my life together. Cut went onto NHL stardom. Then there was a text. 

I haven't seen her in three years. I haven't talked to her since the kiss. So why am I on a plane, flying across the world to spend a week with her in Germany? One word: Pops. My life’s a mess. My possible football career is hanging on by a thread. I'm driving the roads of Germany in honor of Pops with the one girl I can never have. And I’m sharing a bed with her, the girl I've measured everyone else up to, while desperately trying to not to touch her. We made a pact growing up, never to get romantic with each other - never fall in love. 

Life threw me a curveball. An adorable eight-pound, four-ounce curveball with her mother’s eyes and my dark hair. I’d like to think my single-dad game is strong, but honestly? I’ve been struggling a little. When a beautiful young woman moves in next door and offers to give me a hand, I jump at the chance to hire her as a nanny. Jessa is amazing with my daughter. She’s also patient, kind, and way too pretty.

I’m not boyfriend material. If a trail of broken hearts and a piss-poor record of failed relationships have taught me anything, it’s this. My buddies are happy to give me shit about my latest breakup from here to next Sunday. Thanks, but I’d rather have a root canal. And a vasectomy. At the same time. Relief comes in an unlikely package - the gorgeous and feisty Maren. She just so happens to be my best friend’s sister, so that’s not awkward at all.

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". 

River Tate is a god on campus. The king of football. A tattooed bad boy with gunmetal eyes that see right through you. The only chink in his armor is HER, the girl he pretends doesn't exist, the forbidden one with the shy smile and lavender hair. Anastasia Bailey is a nobody.

He's my business partner, my good friend, and the man I've craved for years. But I've resisted the sexy Brit, and I plan to keep up my walls because I've been there, done that, and I know how much it hurts when you let someone into your heart. Then an opportunity comes along for us to snag the business deal of a lifetime. The catch? We need to pretend we're married to pull off this high-stakes deal. 

I’m a man with too many secrets, so the last thing I need is a new roommate with a sexy smile and blue eyes that see right through me. Eight years ago, Roderick left town after high school. We’re not friends. I owe him nothing. But back then, I let one of my secrets slip, and he’s the only one who noticed. Part of me knows I should run far, far away. But the other part wants him to come upstairs and spend the night. But if I let him in, I could lose everything. 

When the invitation arrived, it detailed the rules of the masquerade - no names, no identities. I set one more - find a most wicked man for one night. The kind who'll bring me deliciously naughty pleasure in dark corners. But as the clock ticks to midnight, he finds me, whisks me away to a secret alcove, and delivers all that dirty bliss and then some. We make arrangements for another secret rendezvous before I rush out of the ball. But fate has other plans, since I see my most wicked man the next morning. 

Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer. After that night, we became friends. He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff. But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer. Until one night we crossed the line.  

Ever hear the story about the bodyguard who falls for the rock star? Yeah, it never ends well. Each day I remind myself that it's my job to protect Stone. And nowhere in the job description does it say I should lust after the charismatic, charming man. Especially since we're opposites. But every night I spend with him the dangerous, off-limits attraction grows more intense. Until one night in a limo when we combust. One time only will have to be enough. One scorching, forbidden night. Because the mistakes from the past are chasing me. And if I give in again, I'll lose everything.

Every bartender should follow one simple rule - don't go home with the customers. That’s been easy for me to stick to, until the night a cocky, confident, and sinfully charming hockey star walks into my bar. This sexy athlete is too hard to resist, especially when he makes it clear how much he wants the “sarcastic, witty, hot AF” guy behind the bar - also known as me. Still, I’m not keen on breaking my own rules since I know where that can lead - no place good.   

Lexington Dane was my brother’s best friend growing up. We did everything together. He taught me how to throw a punch, how to change a tire...and he taught me how to kiss. I fell hard and fast, and gave him all my firsts. I promised I’d wait for him.... But I’m done waiting, because he went off to college and never came back. He took his fancy business degree and moved to New York City, where he promptly became a real estate mogul - turning every penthouse and apartment project he touched into gold.