As Cam Mitchell, a New York Maverick and one of the best tight ends in the professional football league, my to-do list should be pretty simple. Play ball. Get laid. Have fun. But after one hour with a stripper named Trixie, that list of mine has shifted dramatically. Tell Quinn to call my lawyer. And, for the love of God, don't get fired from the Mavericks. I swear, I tried to make it stop there. But one tiny thing keeps finding its way to the very top. Find out more about the dark-haired beauty with the big blue eyes and make her mine. 

I'm Leo Landry, one of the best shutdown cornerbacks in the nation, and the New York Mavericks' first round draft pick. If James Bond spent his days running drills and his nights shutting out quarterbacks, he'd dream about being me. But professional football is on a whole other level from college, and as the new guy, I've got everything to prove. No problem. All I've got to do is focus, right? Too bad life's got other plans. 

There are a few things you should know about my brother’s roommate. Wolfie Cox is complicated, and incredibly sexy. Unfortunately, he has an impressive stick lodged so far up his ass, he’s about as emotionally available as a chinchilla. Actually, that might be an insult to the chinchilla community. So, naturally, I want to ride him like a bicycle.

He’s my brother’s best friend, the hot single dad next door. And one accidental sext later, my massive crush on him is no longer a secret. It’s my own damn fault. I’m 30 years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a (reasonably) responsible adult. I should know better than to get tipsy and draft a fake text listing all the dirty things I wish Officer Cole Mitchell would do to me.  I wasn’t supposed to hit send. And he wasn’t supposed to see it.

The word serious isn't in Dr. Shepard's vocabulary - at least not when it comes to relationships. He has all of the seriousness and drama he needs on the floor of the Emergency Department at St. Luke's Hospital. But when feisty first-class flirt Harlow Paige comes into his ER, he might contract something he's never encountered. Look out, Scott.... Love is contagious.

It's just a docuseries about your career as an OB/GYN, they said. It won't interrupt your life during or after filming, they said. It's a great opportunity for the hospital and your practice, they said. Well, they - the television executives who seem intent on ruining my career and personal life with a fair number of creative liberties - lied. Now I'm stuck dealing with the consequences of believing them. Instead of being known as Dr. Will Cummings, head of obstetrics and gynecology at St. Luke's Hospital, I'm now being called Dr. Obscene.

Mabel "Maybe" Willis died a virgin at the very young age of 24. She leaves behind her parents, Betty and Bruce, her brother, Evan, a laptop filled with one too many Jason Momoa memes, and a Kindle library with more books than one human being could ever finish in a lifetime. Cause of death: a text message. Okay. So, I didn't die. But I may as well have. One minute, I'm a woman trying to find her way in the world, and the next, I'm the sender of six of the most embarrassing text messages that have ever been sent in the history of time - or the cell phone. Whatever.   

For the entirety of my adult life, I've been content. Content in my single lifestyle, content in my stressful-but-extremely-successful job as the main corporate counsel for almost every Fortune 500 company in North America, and content in my playful, spontaneous ways. I had no idea it was possible for someone to change my mind. The endless women and work are no longer enough, and just as Ruby Rockford told me - it's about time I grow up.

If people have polar opposites, Luca Rossi is mine. His butt is in the baseball hall of fame. Mine's comfortably seated in the hall of lame. When he's not snagging fly balls out in center field, he's modeling in shampoo commercials. I once jammed my own finger while stirring cookie dough, and sometimes I forget shampoo is a thing. He's a total cynic when it comes to love. I make a living writing love stories. But after my latest broken engagement (no, I don't want to talk about how many times that's happened), it's clear he's exactly the man I need.

When Blair Beaufort literally crashes into Bellamy Creek wearing a ball gown and a tiara, I should have towed her car, said goodnight, and sent her packing. I’m a mechanic, not a hotel manager. I've got enough on my plate trying to keep my shop from going under, my overbearing mother off my back, and my baseball team in contention for the league championship. I don’t have time for a former debutante with zero street smarts and a cash flow problem, even if she is crazy beautiful. But I know better than to think it can last. She wants a fairy tale, and I’m no prince.

Even though two of his best friends have settled down, Wes Lancaster is determined not to get sucked into some siren's web. As owner of the professional football team the New York Mavericks and the wildly successful BAD restaurant, his lifestyle is full as it is. Well, it was, until Winnie Winslow - the new sexy, stiletto-wearing team physician - trash-talks him in the locker room without batting an eye. Now he can't stop himself from wanting her.

I live hard and love harder, and it's love that usually gets me in the most trouble. According to the greater population, I'm the ultimate jerk. My affection tends to be short-lived - a quality I've been assured multiple times by the fairer sex isn't becoming - and the leaving part of loving and leaving has always come natural. At least, it used to. Until her. Luciana Wright. She's an American bombshell and my sister's best friend - a woman so wrong for me, it's written in the waves. And she's the reason we're all here. The reason I have to go back to explain how it all went wrong.

I'm Luciana Wright. Everyone calls me Lucky, but when it comes to love, I'm anything but. I have a long history of dating the wrong men. After going through the most ridiculous breakup in the history of breakups, I thought I'd learned my lesson. I officially put myself into jerk rehab and committed to changing my ways. But, let's be real here, love is never that easy. Especially when an arrogant, charming, he-devil of a sexy alpha man gets involved.

We start off with a lie on Valentine’s Day. My blind date isn’t the studious guy I expected: He’s a drop-dead gorgeous player with sinful amber eyes. Somehow we end up at his penthouse. I blame the gin and tonic. The next day I learn he’s Jack Hawke - bad-boy professional quarterback with a murky past.

I’m not boyfriend material. If a trail of broken hearts and a piss-poor record of failed relationships have taught me anything, it’s this. My buddies are happy to give me shit about my latest breakup from here to next Sunday. Thanks, but I’d rather have a root canal. And a vasectomy. At the same time. Relief comes in an unlikely package - the gorgeous and feisty Maren. She just so happens to be my best friend’s sister, so that’s not awkward at all.