The dreamiest player on the Moo U hockey team hangs a flyer on the bulletin board, and I am spellbound: Rent a boyfriend for the holiday. For $25, I will be your Thanksgiving date. I will talk hockey with your dad. I will bring your mother flowers. I will be polite, and wear a nicely ironed shirt.... Now everyone knows it’s a bad idea to introduce your long-time crush to your messed-up family. But I really do need a date for Thanksgiving, even if I’m not willing to say why.

He’s a hockey player, she’s an intern. Well really, she’s the league’s commissioner’s daughter. But the way she looks at him is probably illegal in several states.

Beckett Langfield is grumpy, rich and hates kids. I’m an overworked, overstressed, and overweight single mom. The only reason we’re getting married is because he needs to fix a PR disaster and I am available. As in sitting next to him, in a bar, when he has this brilliant idea. Considering I just got divorced, I’m not looking to do that again. But Beckett makes me an offer that I literally can’t refuse, so I don’t.

What I meant to do: quietly divorce my lout of a husband and then have a child all on my own. What happens instead: my crush comes back to town when I’m at my most vulnerable. After too many cocktails, I ask him to be my baby’s father. In my defense, it’s been a rough couple of months. Seeing Matteo Rossi again after 14 years has done a number on my emotions. And my libido. In the morning, I’m hoping he’s forgotten the whole thing. But no such luck. In fact, Matteo has a few clarifying questions. And a few naughty ideas, too....

Carter Beckett is the NHL’s resident bad boy, top player both on the ice and in the bedroom, and quite possibly the sexiest man to ever grace my field of vision. But worst of all? He knows it. He’s arrogant, self-centered, and the man doesn’t seem to know what a filter is, let alone how to use one. He’s had everything served to him on a silver platter, including endless strings of women, and apparently, I’m up next. I have the solution to all my sexual frustrations in a drawer at home, and it’s far less complicated than Carter Beckett.