I accidentally sent my nudes to my boss. And a video too as I'm flicking my bean and um... "thinking" about him. And now, I'm pregnant with his baby. It's all my ex's fault. I was just desperately trying to revive our dying love life. So, I took some photos of myself, hit the wrong button, and the whole thing turned into a disaster. My ex broke up with me and my nudes ended up on my boss' computer. As for Maron Korolev, he's more than just my boss. He's tall, handsome, dark, and hard... in all the right places. And he's been my darkest fantasy ever since he hired me.

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?

Life has a sick sense of humor. One minute, I'm arguing with my mobster ex while dripping wet in nothing but a towel. The next, he's dead on the floor, and I'm naked, vulnerable, and at the sole mercy of the most dangerous man in New York City. I've heard the rumors that all the mafia families bow to Creed Ferraro, but I never expected him to drag me into their world. Creed blames me for his brother's death, and now, I'm also a witness to his violent crime. I know the rules. In the mafia, witnesses and enemies don't get to live.

Two months after her eighteenth birthday, scrappy Hikari Skye is ready to leave her ramshackle mobile home on Earth for icy dwarf planet Ceres and the underground bases that house Space Force. She's trading her dingy trailer park; her baby sister, Bea; and her best friend, Rho, for the excitement of the Proxy Wars and the freedom of the galactic front lines—where her father once deserted his own platoon. And the most appealing part? She's leaving behind Draeden Rache, the cocky, privileged bully who tried to kiss her last year.

Myles St. James is tearing my world apart. Wish I’d known that before I slept with him. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. Like I knew anything about those. But I needed to blow off steam. My ex had just gotten engaged. My dry spell was nearing six months. And my booming wedding planning business—the one I started with my bestie—was about to lose its favorite venue to some bulldozer-happy developer from New York.