Gabriel Ferrara is tall and handsome, and most days she wants to stab her eyes out with a pencil, anything to stop her seeing his perfection. How any female could work in these conditions and not be completely besotted with him is beyond her. Then he opens his mouth and she remembers why. He's bossy and sarcastic, with a wit so sharp it could cut glass. Every weekend is the same . . . while he's off living his dream life, she's counting down the days until Monday when she sees him again.

Imagine being snowed in with four hot successful men. P.S. they’ve all played the hero in too many of your naughtiest dreams. Problem is, you work for them, and that makes them off-limits. Except now they’re looking at you like you’re Santa’s cookies. And they definitely want to take a bite. Talk about making you reconsider your life choices. These four are aiming for Santa’s naughty list, and I’m pretty sure I’m getting: Jace, Reed, Alec...and Cole for Christmas.

Living in a year around Christmas town has its drawbacks. The caroling, the decorations, the insanely cheery spirit, it never disappears. It's why I like to hibernate away in my cave - I mean housekeeping a healthy distance from the holly jolly spirits. And all was going according to plan until my nemesis, Storee Taylor, moved in next door to care for her Aunt Cindy. Without blinking, she turned my simple world into a real nightmare-before-Christmas, especially when she decided to enter the town Christmas Kringle contest - which she was determined to win.

When you've been told your whole life that something is sinful, you have two options. Avoid it like the plague, like it has the power to destroy all that is good and pure. Or become as fixated upon it as Eve was upon that apple. I'm sick of the push-pull of terror and temptation. It's tearing me apart. I just want a bite of the apple. More than a bite. I want to devour it. Have its juices spill from my lips. And by apple, I, of course, mean sex.

People say the devil has many faces, but I know only one. Julian Lopez—my childhood rival and family frenemy. I vow to steer clear of him while recovering from my broken engagement, but then the billionaire makes an irresistible offer. Renovate a historic house together and triple our profits. Our temporary truce becomes compromised as we face years’ worth of denied attraction and mixed emotions. Giving into our desire is inevitable...but falling in love? That isn’t part of the plan.

My name is Rachel Price, and two months ago, I walked away from the perfect man. Sweet and funny, and so hot it should be illegal—we shared one magical night. No names. No strings. I never thought I'd see him again. I was wrong. It turns out Mr. Perfect is the playboy grinder for the Jacksonville Rays, the NHL's hottest new hockey team . . . and I'm his new physical therapist. Oh, and the jerk doesn't even recognize 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.

We are told God will punish the wicked; that sinful men will reap what they sow. We are told to scourge our souls with prayer and pain to become clean once again. Well, here I am. Wicked and sinful. Desperate to become clean - even though it feels so good to be dirty. But even I never expected what came next. Even I never expected my punishment to come so soon.

“Give me a second chance, babe . . . and I’ll blow your mind.” Monroe doesn’t know why she answers the text that’s obviously meant for someone else. Or why she keeps answering. Maybe it’s because she’s all alone in a big city and in desperate need of a lifeline. Or maybe it’s because each exchange leaves her intrigued and more than a little turned on. Still, Monroe never would’ve snarked back if she’d known she was talking to the “Golden Boy” of the Dallas Knights.

They call me a slut. Maybe I am. Sometimes I do things I despise. Sometimes men take without asking. But I have a musical gift, only a year left of high school, and a plan. With one obstacle. Emeric Marceaux doesn’t just take. He seizes my will power and bangs it like a dark note. When he commands me to play, I want to give him everything. I kneel for his punishments, tremble for his touch, and risk it all for our stolen moments.