In one second, my life disappeared. My past. My memories. My future. The only certainty I have from the last three years is that my older brother is dead and that I am the only eyewitness. In order to protect the case, the lawyers demand no one give me any information about my life...I must remember on my own. My only help comes from my brother’s best friend and world-renowned investigative reporter Spencer Cross. He has no idea how many nights I’ve spent dreaming of his name—and his body—next to mine. Each day we spend together, I find it harder to want my old life back.

Wes Silver wasn’t looking for love, but when July Mayson literally knocks him on his ass during their first encounter, his world is turned upside down by the quirky blonde, and every moment with her makes him more determined to protect her. July Mayson doesn’t understand the pull she feels toward bad-boy biker Wes Silver, but she knows being with him is like nothing she’s ever felt before. Now all she has to do is tell her overprotective father, Asher Mayson, that she’s found her boom.

If Renn Brewer would’ve asked me to marry him, I would’ve said no. Why? One, his reputation precedes him. His name is in the headlines at least once a month. Two, he’s not just my brother’s best friend. They’re teammates. And three, I’m in my self-care era. Unfortunately, a version of me equates self-care with bad choices.

Pine River was supposed to be a new start for me. And it was, especially attending school with my three overprotective cousins, who were the triplets at the top of the social hierarchy. Except they weren’t alone there, and the first day when I came to school, I saw him. Scout Raiden. Tall. Lean. Tattooed. Mesmerizing. He was a golden god with dark and piercing eyes—looking like he wanted to eat me up. The feeling was mutual, and that was a problem.

Leo F*cking Hernandez. North Boston University’s star running back, notorious bachelor, and number one on my people I would murder if I could get away with it list. And now? He’s my new roommate.

Nate Monson was gorgeous, obnoxiously wealthy, and a player. He was also the person who could destroy my world with a single decision. I walked into that bar looking for him. He saw me. I saw him. The chemistry sizzled between us, but no. I hated Nate Monson. I hated him with everything in me, even though my body did not. It didn't matter. Nothing I wanted mattered. He thought I wanted to get laid. What I wanted was for him to disappear. But first, I had to tell him that he had a daughter.

Cybil is the queen of bad timing. First, her fiancé breaks up with her days before their wedding. Next, she’s stuck going on a couples retreat in the Montana wilderness alone. And worst of all, now she’s fighting a growing attraction to the wilderness retreat’s rugged owner, Tanner. Tanner has built his wilderness adventure service on a few key principles: never take unnecessary risks, never put anyone’s life in danger - and never, ever sleep with a client. The arrival of a beautiful new visitor, however, might mean bending the rules.

He walked into school on his first day and owned it. I guess that's what happens when you're a prick, rich, and you're best friends with the ruling school's king. Also didn't hurt that he's drop-dead gorgeous. That's all fine. I mean, I have nothing to do with them. I'm a loner, invisible, and that's how I wanted it to be. I was even proud of it, until I wasn't. His name is Blaise Devroe. My name is Aspen Monson. He only knew how to get, command, and demand attention. I knew how to do everything but that. And this is our story. 

I watched him in high school; I knew his reputation. I knew he was wealthy, privileged, and mean. He ran the show back then, a partier and a player. Then he came back from college, back to the town I never left. He’s different now. He comes into the bar, and I know his routine. I know which stool he’ll pick. I know his favorite drink. I know which sports team he’ll want on the television screen. And I watch as he gets hit on. Sometimes he leaves the bar with a woman. Sometimes he doesn’t. But I’m always there, tending to his drinks. He gives me a smile and a polite nod back.

What's worse than having Rider Kingston, the star quarterback, give you the big brushoff because he doesn't want to get serious? You'd probably think living across the street from him where you get a firsthand view of his hookups, right? That's what I thought. Until someone drops off a baby with a note pinned to her blanket that says one of those jocks - either Rider or one of his roommates - is the father. The problem? Baby mama doesn't mention which of these numbskulls is the sperm donor. I wouldn't care about their paternity problems - except my brother lives there too.