I knew something was wrong the second she walked in the door tonight; I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. Same hair color. Same legs. Same face. Except...I look harder. At the small dimple beneath her lip that wasn't there the last time we went out. And her laugh - that laugh isn't as loud. This isn't the girl I've gone out with the past few weeks. It's her twin sister, and they've switched places on me.

Five hockey players, a cabin in the woods...and little old me, Winnie Berlin. Sounds like the start of a fantasy, right? But it's not. It's my reality. It all started when I got lost in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. A wicked thunderstorm sent my car mud sliding into a ditch, and for a girl whose survival skills involve finding the nearest Starbucks, I was in deep trouble. Forced to abandon my car in search of help, I stumbled upon a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

After my ex crushed my dreams in the music industry, I’m done with getting my heart broken. Working as an assistant for an NHL player was supposed to be a breeze, but nothing about Jamie Streicher is easy. He’s an intimidatingly hot, grouchy jerk who can't stand me. The guy has a massive ego. Keeping things professional will be no problem, even when he demands I move in with him.

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?

No doubt about it, Sebastian "Oz" Osborne is the university's most celebrated student athlete - and possibly the biggest douchebag. A walking, talking cliché, he has a filthy mouth, a fantastic body, and doesn't give a sh-t about what you or anyone else thinks. Jameson Clarke may be the university's most diligent student - but she is no prude. Spending most of her time in the hallowed halls of the library, James is wary of pervs, jocks, and douchebags - and Oz Osborne is all three. She's smart, sarcastic - and not what he expected....

One minute you’re a struggling graphic designer in L.A. who's finally coming to terms with being single forever, and the next, you're flying to New York in a private jet to get engaged to your ex-boyfriend’s older brother. At least...that’s what everyone thinks. Forced to clean up his playboy image in order to protect his company, Beckham Sinclair, the city’s most eligible billionaire bachelor, wants me to be his fake fiancée and personal assistant. Now I'm spending every spare second with a man I thought I’d never see again.

Charming, captivating, seductive—and a cold-blooded killer. I married the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva anyway. I had to, it was part of the deal. Now, I’m faking marital bliss as I tremble with fear, and I cannot wait to be out of the clutches of this ruthless man.

Let me ask you a question: If someone is vying for your spot on a team and just so happens to injure you during practice, would you believe it was on purpose? Word around campus is...it was no accident. That injury has cost me everything - my starting position, my junior year, and the draft. Now, I’m a senior fresh off recovery, struggling to find my groove, until the day I run into a nervous, fidgety girl with freckles in the dining hall. 

Troy Alexander is sex on a stick and every girl’s dream at John Rushmore University. He’s also the bane of my existence. Our meet-cute wasn’t exactly cute. He called me a nerd, and I accused him of slacking off on the field. Now, we have to live together. I’m supposed to try to play nice to keep a roof over my head. Not in my nature. Our arrangement could be a living hell, but slowly, I realize the worst thing he ever did wasn’t calling me names.

"Hard pass." That's what the last girl I slept with said when she got her first sober glimpse of me. She laughed, walked out of my penthouse - and I never saw her again. It doesn't matter that I'm a rich, professional athlete; what mattered was my face. Beauty might only be skin deep for some - but I know better. "Pay up." That's what the last girl I spoke to said over the phone when I made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

I have a type. I love the good guy. Responsible and stable. Safe. So when a beer-drinking, quick-witted, tattooed hockey player asks me to tutor him, I'm suddenly thrust into the world of bad boys and bad decisions. Jordan is a renowned player on campus. He doesn’t take anything seriously, except hockey and partying. But he gives me butterflies. I’m a wallflower tutoring Valley University’s hottest player.

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball. A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger. But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love. He’s fueled by revenge. To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage. His rival’s betrothed. To me, he is a man deserving of poison. A dark prince I refuse to marry. He thinks I’ll accept my fate. Well, I plan to rewrite it. And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die. But Romeo? He perishes.

He’s dark. Dirty. Dangerous. A brother in my dad’s MC. Everything Mom told me to avoid. Everything I shouldn’t want. But his dark, his dirty, and his dangerous are like catnip to me. He stirs fear into the hearts of men, but I hear his rage. I feel it like it’s my own. He’s a killer. Shameless. Some might even call him a psycho. I just call him soul mate. We were born to raise hell together.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Written a racy message and sent it to—oops—the wrong person. Yeah, me too. Except, I sent my latest Tales of a Naughty Virgin column detailing my fantasies about my hot, charming, thoroughly bangable next-door-neighbor to…my entire company. Did I mention I’m a children’s book editor? Well, I was. *Facepalm.* At least the column goes viral, but I’m still the gal who gets fired for her not-safe-for-work thoughts about the so-called “Mister Sexy Pants”.

There are a few things that life doesn’t prepare you for. Like what to do when a super-hot guy catches you sneaking around in his basement, or what to do when a mysterious package shows up with tickets to a hockey game (because, apparently, he’s a professional athlete). Nor how to handle it when you get to the game and realize he’s freaking famous, since half of the 20,000 people in the stands are wearing his jersey.