Meet Randi Burnett—she’s brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she works for the bride. Missing groom? Intoxicated in-laws? Crying ring-bearer? You name it, she wrangles it. Too bad her personal life isn’t thriving like her side gig as a bridesmaid for hire. Recently dumped, Randi throws herself into her biggest challenge yet when she’s hired as a maid of honor and pretend best friend for an ice queen bride. There’s just one problem—the best man is infuriating, overprotective, and anti-marriage.

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.

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.

I'm addicted to my stalker. He watches me at night, sneaking in through my living room window and making my blood turn to ice. I feel him all around me as chills snake down my spine. Each night he becomes bolder, getting closer and welcoming himself into my bedroom, feeding his addiction.

Beckett: If you’re reading this, well, you know the last-letter drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know if there was any chance you could have saved me, you would have. I need one thing from you: get out of the army and get to Telluride. My little sister Ella’s raising the twins alone. She’s too independent and won’t accept help easily, but she has lost our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much for anyone to endure. And here’s the kicker: there’s something else you don’t know that’s tearing her family apart.

When I decided to ditch my V-card, I figured Greek Row was a sure thing. I didn’t count on Cooper-the-cockblocking-jockhole-DeLaurentis or his misguided sense of bro code putting an embarrassing end to my hookup. After all, Waverly’s star wide receiver is the most notorious player on campus. He’s arrogant. Infuriating. Sexy as hell.

Three words to describe Kennedy Carter? Smart. Driven. Killer legs. See also: my last hope of winning a national football championship. Okay, so technically that’s more than three, but I’ve got bigger problems at the moment. Thanks to a drunken dare, Waverly University is short a kicker and with the home opener in three weeks, I’ll do whatever it takes to lead my team to victory. Even if it means poaching talent from the women’s soccer team. Or recruiting a sassy, STEM-loving feminist who wants nothing to do with football or me.

When professional soccer player HUNTER HALE returns home after years of living in Europe, he needs only one thing: a nanny for his daughter, Story. The problem? No matter how highly skilled the candidates are, he doesn't like any of them. The situation seems impossible until Story's uncle, Hayden, finds the solution—his best friend, PIPER EVANS. With her little sister's health declining, Piper was forced to drop out of college and help pay for her sister's medical expenses from her college fund. Her plan? Find a job and save up money so she can continue her studies after taking a year off.

I don't date football players, and he doesn't do relationships. But when the bad boy tight end who fits every descriptor on my naughty list finds himself in a tight spot, he proposes a fake relationship. I start to see him as so much more than my brother's best friend as he slowly lets me in, but forces are working hard to break us apart. Public shows of commitment leave me confused, but in private, I start to question whether there's really an expiration date stamped on our relationship.

Two years ago, I had the hottest night of my life with a woman who didn’t want to tell me her name—and in a tequila-fueled fever dream, I agreed. She was funny, sexy, and after I got past her brittle shell, secretly very sweet. In the morning, she was gone. I’ve looked for her in every city I’ve played in since. That night ruined me for anyone else, but the woman I only know as “Jersey Girl” never showed up at another game. Not until I skate onto brand new ice as part of the NHL’s latest team. And there she is, in the stands at our season opening game. Very carefully not looking at me.