He won’t tell me his last name, and maybe that should throw up a thousand red flags, but when I’m all alone in a new city and struggling to make ends meet, his texts are the lifeline I’ve been desperate for. I never would have answered that text if I’d known that Lincoln Daniels—superstar hockey player extraordinaire—was the one sending it. He’s trying to sweep me off my feet now. He says he’s obsessed. He wants me to wear his number…permanently. But is he still the wrong number, or can this hockey god prove he’s Mr. Right?

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.

Running away from home at 17 wasn't easy. Let's face it, though, nothing before or in the ten years since has ever been easy for me. And I'm doing okay—sorta. I just need to keep scraping by, living under the radar. Staying out of people's way, off people's minds. When a man walks through my open patio door, stepping boldly into my home and my life, I should be scared, frightened, terrified. I must be more broken than I realized because I'm none of those things. I'm intrigued—and I'm wondering if the way to take control of my life is by giving in to him.

OnlyFans was just a steamy side-hustle to earn some extra cash. Once I saved up enough money for a house, I was going to put away my webcam for good. But when my boss Michael Bauer stumbled upon my page after a bachelor party? He became my biggest fan.

My whole life, no one has had my back. My parents are dead, my adoptive mother is a drug addict, and the mean girls on campus mock me for my scars. So when I end up desperate for money and out of options, I agree to sell the one thing I have left: my innocence. On the night I’m meant to give my body to a brutal Russian mobster, three men storm into the room like dark shadows and kill him before he can claim me. When they drag me from the blood-soaked bed, I’m certain they’re going to kill me too.

I’m an unremarkable Pyromancer student; there’s no chance I’m skilled enough at runetracing to graduate—let alone take part in the war against the Silithik. Yet after a surprise attack on the Fifth Academy, I’m the only Pyromancer left alive. Now I’m thrust directly into a Dragon Quintelaide, an elite fighting unit comprising one member of each battle profession.

Everything is going great with my three suitors until Luke hooks me up with a flight attendant gig for a private airline. And although the money is very good, not everything is what it seems. Especially when we begin flying some awfully suspicious routes to Mexico… Can we figure out what’s happening on these private flights? Or will my curiosity send all four of us into a nosedive?

There's no logical reason I can't have all three of them, right? Especially when they make it crystal clear they intend upon sharing me exactly as they've shared everything else, and in every possible way... Can I pull off a hat trick with this trio of gorgeous teammates and best friends? Or will the perils of being passed between three scorching hockey stars land our lifelong friendship in the penalty box?

It was supposed to be a joke: Give my best friend raunchy toys for her bridal shower and embarrass her in front of her family. But when my package is wrongly delivered to my gorgeous, mysterious neighbor, I'm the one who ends up mortified. I sneak over to his place to try stealing it back before he finds it. The problem is I get caught mid-heist... And then he makes me stay for dinner. Dinner leads to dessert, and dessert leads to... other dessert, if you get my drift. Several courses of sweet, sinful temptation.

For the past decade, I’ve put my love life on hold to focus on tennis. Now I’m retired and ready to relax. Until three swoony men from my past come walking back into my life. First there’s Dominic deGrom, the chiseled all-American boy who stole my heart when we were teenagers. Then there’s Tristan Carfrae, the tall Australian whose serve is as undeniable as his quick smile.