Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of best-selling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish. Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read.

Five Years Earlier: Henry Dunne knows three things: that agreeing to host this raucous house party was a terrible idea, that he absolutely cannot show up to his nursing shift tomorrow with a hangover, and that the beautiful redhead in the corner will be sleeping in his bed tonight.

Ryder, Garrett, Kenzo, and Diesel - The Vipers. Their deals are as sordid as their business, and their reputation is enough to bring a grown man to his knees, forcing him to beg for mercy. They are not people you mess with, yet my dad did. The old man ran up a debt with them and then sold me to cover his losses. Yes, sold me. They own me now. I’m theirs in every sense of the word. But I’ve never been meek and compliant.

Obituary writer Nadine Barbault doesn’t mind being called “Lady Death”. It suits the ice queen persona she’s cultivated to survive the fast-paced Toronto Herald. So when Nadine learns that famous (and reclusive) author Dot Voline has died, she doesn’t hesitate to run the obituary…only to discover that Dot is very much alive. Nadine’s screw-up has brought Wesley Chen of the rival Spear no end of joy—she’s been a thorn in his extremely ambitious side for years. But the renewed interest in Dot also surfaced chatter about a mysterious past scandal.

Hockey coach Ashley Jaswal doesn't take nonsense from anyone … except her overbearing and superstitious family. They believe she's a good luck charm for her brother Jas, the newest Vancouver Canucks draft pick, forcing Ash to attend all his games as he rises up the NHL ranks, sacrificing her personal life (not that she has one—who decided hockey season needed to be 10 months long anyway?). Ash also clashes with Jas’s teammate, Canucks captain Devin Snyder.

Torren King is rock-and-roll’s broodiest bachelor. Mysterious, moody, and coveted by nearly everyone. But to me, he’s just the sad boy who set fire to my heart, then reduced me to ashes in the desert. For four sweltering nights, I burned for him, and he conquered my heart one whispered lyric at a time. But on the fifth night, he shattered me in the way only a flawless rock god can: irreparably, and with devastating finesse.

Being a lifelong Chicago Thunder fan, I know that Blaine Olsen is trouble. Because all hockey players are. He's a notorious playboy, and I refuse to be another notch on his bedpost. But when he shows me the part of himself he keeps hidden, it gets harder to resist him.

Lennox Kennedy is beautiful, loud, and the love of my life. She's also my ex-girlfriend. The first time I saw her after ten years apart, I slammed into the plexiglass minutes before our game was set to begin. The second time I threw up. The third time's a charm apparently because as my fiancée and I walked into an appointment to meet the woman hired to plan our nuptials—there she was again. Obviously, I did what any smart man would do—I called off the wedding. I don't have a plan per se, other than winning back the only girl I've ever loved.

What’s worse than finding your fiancé cheating on you with your best friend on your wedding day? Having to return to the scene of the crime. But when my mother begs me to come back to my small hometown for Christmas, I can’t say no. It’s been a few years since I left, and I miss my family… and the three triplets who are my brother’s best friends (and my secret childhood crushes).

Basilio DiLustro. Charming. Deadly. A monster dressed in a three-piece-suit. Wynter Star. Realist with the most romantic of hearts, hiding it all under her ice princess fame. The two were never meant to cross paths. When they do, worlds collide and volcanoes erupt. Basilio makes her feel everything when she’s with him. Protected. Loved. Desired. Every monster has a weakness. She’s his. His obsession. His addiction. His only salvation.

One day, I was chugging along at life as a wedding planner. The next, I’m a confidential informant and fake engaged to the grumpiest DEA agent on earth. Hit the brakes. Let’s back up. You know those sappy made-for-TV movies where the leading lady gets the unsuspecting knock on the door and is the beneficiary of a massive inheritance? That’s me. I’m that heroine. My name is Goldie Carter, and inheriting The Pink—one of the most historic and grandest estates in Miami—would be a dream come true for any gal, but especially me.

Declan Hardy, All-American heartthrob and retired NFL billionaire, is my complete opposite. He's commanding where I'm cooperative. Spontaneous while I am deliberate. Loud when I stay quiet. The only thing we have in common is that both our names are on my father's will.

Help Wanted: Grumpy mountain man seeks baby momma. Job is an incubator position only. Surrogate must be impervious to grunting as the form of communication and nosy brotherly neighbors. Rustic mountain range housing available upon request. I wanted to pummel my irritating brothers when they posted their own version of a wanted ad to help me with my life. But I can’t fault the results once the right woman lands in my lap. Becoming a single father is not a decision I made lightly. In fact, it’s the biggest decision of my entire life. Which is why when I interview Trista, I know she’s perfect.

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.

My whole life, I've come out on top. One of the finest players ever to grace the NHL? Check. Most prolific playboy with an enviable reputation between the sheets? Check. Award for the cockiest athlete in America? Also, check, and well deserved I'd say. So why does my life feel anything but the perfect image I project? And why won't the one woman who came crashing into my life and knocked me on my six-foot-four ass take me seriously?