Nicholas Arthur Frederick Edward Pembrook, Crowned Prince of Wessco, aka His Royal Hotness, is wickedly charming, devastatingly handsome, and unabashedly arrogant - hard not to be when people are constantly bowing down to you. Then, one snowy night in Manhattan, the prince meets a dark-haired beauty who doesn't bow down. Instead she throws a pie in his face.

On the eve of her 30th birthday, sports agent Bess Beringer is ready to make some changes. Armed with a five-year plan - indexed and color coded - she’ll tackle her personal life with the same zeal that she brings to her successful agency. A big, tall, ripped hunk of hockey player who’s just been traded to the Brooklyn Bruisers is not a part of that plan. Mark “Tank” Tankiewicz has a lot of baggage. He’s a ride-or-die loner with a bad reputation. He’s on the rebound. He’s also the sexiest thing on two legs, and for some crazy reason it’s Bess that he wants. 

My planned trip for two unexpectedly turned into a trip for one. Rather than let my breakup get me down, I packed my bags and decided a week at a luxury resort was just what I needed. But one calamity after the next, and suddenly I was stuck without a hotel room, along with a few hundred other people. It looked like my fancy vacation was about to turn into me sleeping on the hotel lobby floor. Until I overheard a gorgeous man pretending to be someone he wasn’t in order to steal a reservation from a guest who hadn’t shown up yet. 

I didn't mean to star in a sex tape, okay? It was just one of those unexplainable things. Like Stonehenge, Police Academy 2, and morning glory clouds. It just happened. Now, my ball-busting father is sentencing me to six months of celibacy, sobriety, and morbid boredom under the roof of Boston's nerdiest girl alive, Sailor Brennan. The virginal archer is supposed to babysit my ass while I learn to take my place in Royal Pipelines, my family's oil company. Little does she know, that's not the only pipe I'll be laying....

Nashville Legends second baseman Gavin Scott's marriage is in major league trouble. He’s recently discovered a humiliating secret: His wife, Thea, has always faked the Big O. When he loses his cool at the revelation, it’s the final straw on their already strained relationship. Thea asks for a divorce, and Gavin realizes he’s let his pride and fear get the better of him. Welcome to the Bromance Book Club. Distraught and desperate, Gavin finds help from an unlikely source: a secret romance book club made up of Nashville's top alpha men.

When a hockey player with a major PR problem finds himself on a bad date with a redhead, he has to tough it out for five dates without flaking - or falling in love. 

At first, the request seemed simple - sign a new athlete to the agency. Then I found out the new athlete was none other than the most wanted man in hockey today: Hunter Maddox. Gifted. Sexy. At the top of his game. And the only man who has ever broken my heart. If signing him will help save our family business, I’ll swallow my pride and do what’s asked. But when it becomes clear his uncharacteristic antics off the ice are a hint of something deeper, keeping things strictly professional between us becomes more than complicated. But I know better than to cross that line.

The beginning of my sophomore year in college was off to a rough start. On the first day of orientation, I had an altercation with an infuriating British dude in a campus bathroom. (The ladies’ room was out of order. So, I used the men’s room. Don’t judge.) I got home later that night and realized that the foreign student we were expecting to rent a room in my parents’ house was allergic to our cat. So, the spare room went to someone else: Caleb - the British guy from the men’s room. And so it began...my love-hate story with Caleb Yates. Or was it hate-love in that order?

I've spent eight years wishing I'd fall out of love with Derek Knightley. Blowing out birthday candles, chasing after shooting stars, making it rain spare change into mall fountains - every time it's the same wish: Forget about Derek. But the day he walks back into my life, I realize there are two things time has yet to soften: my feelings for him and his chiseled jawline. It's infuriating that my heart still races when he walks into a room. I refuse to fall prey to old unrequited love, so I decide the less I'm around him, the better. Avoidance is key.

Dr. Easton is part man, part myth. He’s a formidable surgeon. Highly respected in his field. He also happens to be an ex-collegiate quarterback with a classically handsome face. Are you catching on yet? He’s horrible. Beautiful. A walking Ralph Lauren ad. He’s also so off-limits he should come with a warning label: This way lies heartache. 

They say your first kiss should be earned. Mine was stolen by a devil in a masquerade mask under the black Chicago sky. They say the vows you take on your wedding day are sacred. Mine were broken before we left church. They say your heart only beats for one man. Mine split and bled for two rivals who fought for it until the bitter end. I was promised to Angelo Bandini, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Chicago Outfit. Then taken by Senator Wolfe Keaton, who held my father’s sins over his head to force me into marriage.

Célian Laurent. Manhattan royalty. Notorious playboy. Heir to a media empire...and my new boss. I could have impressed him, if not for last month's unforgettable one-night stand. I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory - namely, his wallet. Now he's staring me down like I'm the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I'm supposed to take it. But the thing about being Judith "Jude" Humphry is I have nothing to lose. Brooklyn girl. Infamously quirky. Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch. 

Everyone says opposites attract. And they must be right, because there’s no logical reason why I’m so drawn to Colin Fitzgerald. I don’t usually go for tattoo-covered, video-gaming, hockey-playing nerd-jocks who think I’m flighty and superficial. His narrow view of me is the first strike against him. It doesn’t help that he’s buddy-buddy with my brother. And that his best friend has a crush on me. And that I just moved in with them. Oh, did I not mention we’re roommates?

It’s true. I’m not what most people would call “pretty” and, well, high school was rough. Fast forward ten years and life is good, until a bunch of jerks think it’s hilarious to put the “butterface” (AKA me) on a wedding Kiss Cam with the hottest guy ever - and that old humiliation hits hard. I recognize him immediately. The hottest cop in Waterbury and totally out of my league. But then he kisses me. And we totally forget the room, the crowd, everything. Then he tells everyone we’ve been dating for months.

When your stepbrother is a hot hockey stud with more notches in his bedpost than, well anyone, he’s the perfect candidate to help you gain a little bedroom experience. At least, that's my plan this V-day.